


Doubling Our DNA

by AltruisticSkittles



Series: Altering our DNA [2]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood and Gore, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gaslighting, Human Experimentation, Hurt/Comfort, I'm gonna hurt a lot of people in this sorry, Implied/Referenced Torture, Imprisonment, M/M, Memory Loss, Mind Control, Minor Character Death, Past Torture, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Torture, Superhuman Au, Unethical Experimentation, and some are working on a way to get them all out, hopefully, in which most of the boys are stuck in a human experimentation lab, other triggers include, some don't know why they're there, some have been there since the day they were born
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-25
Updated: 2020-05-28
Packaged: 2020-10-28 05:00:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 49,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20772938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AltruisticSkittles/pseuds/AltruisticSkittles
Summary: Life's not fair, is it?Sometimes the bad guys win. Sometimes we're held accountable for things we don't remember doing. Sometimes we're forced to do horrible things in the name of protecting what's good. Morality isn't as easily defined as when we were young.But through all this darkness, there is hope. Hope that good will win in the end. Hope that life will turn around for the better. Hope that we can be forgiven. Hope that people will band together and ultimately do the right thing.Until then, we are here, at the Institute of Outstanding Disabilities and Neurological Assessments, where the only thing you have to fear is not dying a peaceful death.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Have you all put away your pitch forks from the last story? No? Good, you'll probably need them here too.
> 
> Good news is, if you have not read "In Our DNA" you probably won't have to read it in order to understand this one. Mostly because I answer nothing in the first book.
> 
> Bad news is, you remember how the first book was supposed to be dark? Yeah... this is it. This is going to be the dark one.
> 
> Now, without further ado, please sit back and try to relax as we dive into "Doubling Our DNA"
> 
> \--  
Chapter warnings: fake reality, nightmares, numbness, asphyxiation, death mention, crying, paranoia, zalgo text, claustrophobia, anxiety attack, corporal punishment, electric shocks, loss of consiousness, victim blaming  
Word count: 3958

_I reach out to him and open my mouth. Nothing comes out. I try again, only to fail. I come so close to touching his shoulder, to feeling the softness of his blond hair, to catch tear stained tear stained cheeks and eyes with too long eyelashes batting at me in the breeze. Those blue eyes pierce my soul. It sounds dumb, but they must have, because I couldn’t feel my heart anymore. All I feel is loneliness and despair.  
_

_He._

_He is the one I’m always dreaming about. He smiles, but I could tell it was fake for some reason. _

_Hurt._

_Alone. _

_Broken._

_A word forms on his lips, choked by the tears glistening in his eyes. Help. I reach out to try, but something is holding me back. Something cold that shakes me to my core._

_A black hand reaches from the darkness and wraps around his mouth. I try to yell, I try to latch onto that hand reaching for me. I want to save him. I really do._

_But I am too afraid._

\--

Virgil opened his eyes and blinked three times. The sunlight should’ve warmed his cold skin, but all it did was blind him. He pulled his hooded jacket closer to his body. Virgil’s whole body shivered as the vision left him, and he stared at the painting in front of him.

Frozen blue eyes. Tangled blonde hair. A hand reached out while another restrained. 

Who was this person, and why did Virgil keep having visions about them?

Virgil wiped his paint stained fingers off on a cloth and set it down beside his easel. He cast one last glance at the picture before stepping out of his art studio and closing the door, closing the vision, closing the past off from him.

After pulling his jacket a little closer, Virgil descended the stairs into his kitchen. He opened the fridge and realized with a curse that all his coffee had been consumed. Strange, he never ran out. Okay, which ghost was in his house drinking his coffee?

With muttered snark dripping from his lips, Virgil put his long black boots on, laced them up, and wrapped his plaid purple scarf around his neck. The door creaked as he opened it. He set the house key under the stone beneath the porch and stepped out into the brisk air.

This town that Virgil lived in always stayed the same. No, literally. The leaves always held a golden, orange tone to them, wrapped around dried bark that dropped its only source of creating food onto the ground. The chilly breeze scattered their remans around town. Children and adults alike loved to collect them and jump into their piles. Virgil liked to crunch them under his boots. The chilly air never got above or below a comfortable 75 degrees, or at least that’s what Virgil’s thermometer swinging on his front porch told him. The sky always held a deep blue as the sun pivoted around it. The constellations always twinkled at night, the same ones in the same positions.

Virgil found his way down the cobblestone path to the supermarket. He grabbed a large container of fresh coffee beans. Despite no one running the store, it always stayed freshly stocked. Perhaps that’s where his coffee went every morning. Perhaps it just returned to the store.

Virgil put his coffee into his backpack and traveled back down the road. He listened to the clomping of his feet as he traveled down the path.

“Evening, Virgil,” a set of voices who sounded exactly the same greeted him. Virgil turned. Two sisters waved to him as they raked leaves from their yard. Virgil waved back. He couldn't remember their names, but he knew them. 

"Hey," he said back. 

"Say, Virgil," one of the girls said when he came closer, "Did you paint anyone this morning?" 

Virgil stopped and nodded. "Yeah, that strange guy again."

The other hummed. "Do you have a name yet?" 

Virgil shook his head. He sighed through his nose. "No, not yet."

"Keep trying," they both said at once. 

"Heh, thanks," Virgil responded. He walked back down the road to his house. The door opened. Light blinded him. Virgil shielded his eyes with his hands. 

\--

_Try again._

\--

I blink the light away. I don't know when I got here, but there's something off. I start walking. Rain drops fall from the sky. I look up and let them wash over my hair and face. 

I feel nothing. 

My name echoes down the street. I turn. Someone is running towards me. They're drenched with rain. Their feet make little to no noise on the pavement, like they're a ghost. 

I call out to them. The word sounds garbled in my ear, like the rain clogged my hearing. They scream my name. Their hand reaches blindly in the dark. 

As I reach out to grab them, a hole opens up and swallows me. I gasp. I choke. The blackness consumes me. I can't breathe! I struggle and thrash, but nothing connects. My head is burning. My mind races with ideas as I try to escape. 

I open my mouth to breathe. The taste of sour milk floods my mouth. I gag but I can't get sick. I breathe but I feel no air. 

Help! Someone please help me! I'm… 

I'm dying-

\--

Virgil shot back and toppled his chair backward. He fell to the floor and gasped for breath, thankful that he could. He looked around. His eyes connected with a painting in front of him. 

He covered the whole canvas in black paint. No person, no name, no nothing. Virgil frowned and rectified his chair. 

He needed something coffee. 

After pulling his jacket a little closer, Virgil descended the stairs into his kitchen. He opened the fridge and realized with a curse that all his coffee had been consumed. Strange, he never ran out. Okay, which ghost was in his house drinking his coffee?

With muttered snark dripping from his lips, Virgil put his long black boots on, laced them up, and wrapped his plaid purple scarf around his neck. The door creaked as he opened it. He set the house key under the stone beneath the porch and stepped out into the brisk air.

The always autumn air greeted him. He walked down the cobblestone path and noticed the two sisters raking leaves. 

“Evening, Virgil,” they greeted at the same time. 

"Hey," he said back. 

"Say, Virgil, did you paint anyone this morning?" 

Virgil stopped. He narrowed his eyes. "No, I didn't. I mean, I could have, but I painted the whole canvas black. I don't know what I painted over, but-" 

"Keep trying," they both said at once. 

Virgil creased his brow. He opened his mouth to ask what they meant, but the air dried his lungs. He coughed several times. His lungs ached like he was back in that awful darkness. The ground split out from under him. 

\--

_But sir, if we give him another dose, he might die. _

_I didn't ask for a theory. I want results. Try again!_

\--

Someone presses on my chest. I can't breathe. They're crying my name. The rain drops on my cheeks much slower than before. 

Lips meet mine. 

All my senses lock. A jolt of electricity shoots through my body. My eyes fly open and I gasp in the open air. The sky is starless. I suck in air like a camel drinking water in the desert. 

More raindrops, I finally realized we're not raindrops but teardrops, fall on my face. Someone is squeezing me. I cough into their shoulder, but they don't seem to mind. They cup my cheeks and pepper kisses across my face. 

I've never felt lighter. 

They pull away, and their blue eyes stare into mine. 

Their voice is muffled, but they say, "I thought I lost you."

My throat burns. I want to speak to him. I want to tell him that I am not going anywhere. 

He ducks down and takes me with. He's practically pinning me to the ground, his eyes alight with fear and searching. Watching. Waiting. 

"What-" I choke out, but he shushes me. He starts to whisper, but I can't hear him. 

I read his lips. 

They are watching. 

\--

Virgil gasped and blinked awareness into his eyes. He stared at the painting in front of him, paint dripping down the canvas like a wound running down textured skin. 

The once black canvas in front of him is no longer black. Red and white eyes stare back at him. Nearly a hundred. They're all wide and staring at the canvas. 

In thick red letters, a warning reaches out through the darkness. 

THEY 

ARE 

WATCHING

Virgil ran a hand through his hair. What did that mean? Who was watching? It was too early for this cryptic junk. 

A cup of coffee would soothe his nerves. 

After pulling his jacket a little closer, Virgil descended the stairs into his kitchen. He opened the fridge and realized with a curse that all his coffee had been consumed. Strange, he never ran out. Okay, which ghost was in his house drinking his coffee?

With muttered snark dripping from his lips, Virgil put his long black boots on, laced them up, and wrapped his plaid purple scarf around his neck. The door creaked as he opened it. He set the house key under the stone beneath the porch and stepped out into the brisk air.

The always autumn air greeted him. He walked down the cobblestone path and noticed the two sisters staring at him with blank expressions. Virgil froze in his tracks. 

"What?" he managed to ask. 

The two girls simply stared, their eyes dull. Goosebumps rose to Virgil's skin. He shivered and rubbed his arms. 

"What?" he shouted again. 

"W̵h̶o̷ ̵i̸s̷ ̶h̵e̶," they screeched. 

Virgil covered his ears. The noise shot through him like a bullet, raced through the path like a freight train, and ruined every bit of peace in its wake.

"W̵h̶o̷ ̵i̸s̷ ̶h̵e̶!" they screeched again.

Virgil squeezed his eyes shut and tried to keep his knees from buckling. He took a step back. When he opened his eyes again, their eyes stared back at him. Devoid of life. Devoid of kindness. Pure white eyes like haunted spirits stared back at him.

They opened their mouth and screamed. And screamed. Screamed like a child lost in a sea of strangers. Screamed like a tea kettle neglected by its owner. Screamed. Screamed like a loved one losing their partner. Screamed. And screamed.

Virgil did lose his balance this time. He fell to his knees and pressed his forehead into the dirt path below him. He couldn't feel the rocks dig into his skin. He couldn't feel the blood dripping down his ears and the tears running black from his eyes. He couldn't feel his heart threatening to beat out of his chest. He couldn't feel.

Anything.

Anything but dark and cold.

\--

_What are you doing?_

_Sir if we give him another dose he will die._

_You're certain? _

_Yes!_

_Fine, we're done for the day._

\--

Virgil opened his eyes. The hallway traveled backwards as his bare feet slid on its heels. Cold tile floor rubbed the skin raw. 

Virgil blinked.

Doors paired side by side followed large gaps. The fluorescent lights flickered like flames above him.

Virgil blinked.

Moans of agony and tears that no one would comfort echoed throughout the space like haunted spirits. Some were shushed. Some were followed by angry screams. Some bargained for their life. Some didn't.

Virgil blinked.

A heavy click sounded behind him. Virgil's balance toppled as two strong arms threw him backward onto even colder floor. He hit hard. His head ached, and the air left his lungs. A heavy slam of the door, followed by the same hollow click, shut all noise off from him.

Virgil blinked.

Virgil blinked.

Virgil blinked.

The single light above him shined down on him like a doctor's operating light. The cool floor would've felt nice against his hoodie, now replaced with a solid white turtleneck and white sweatpants. Virgil wrinkled his nose. All this white made him look like a ghost. He wiped his eyes, surprised to find a thick black substance leaking from them. Virgil thought at first it was his eye shadow, until he tested its consistency between his fingers. Sticky. Thick. Cold.

What was this?

Virgil snapped his head around the room to look for a mirror. He had to figure out what this stuff was and where it was coming from. A bed hung from the wall by two silver chains, keeping the purity of the white floor and walls in tact. A toilet sat exposed in the corner. There wasn't even a sink to wash his hands after he was done. The only door to the room was the solid metal one he came through.

Trapped.

He was trapped.

His throat closed up. Something was squeezing his neck.

Virgil choked. 

He clawed at his throat, and his fingers met a metal collar around his neck. He pulled at it. An electric shock ran through his neck. Virgil yelped. He pulled again. It shocked harder this time, and Virgil screamed. The corner of his eyes darkened and swallowed his vision. He collapsed onto his hands and knees, struggling to breathe, struggling to escape.

Escape.

He had to escape.

He had to.

He had…

"Hello?" a voice called out in the dark.

Virgil opened his eyes. He blinked several times to clear his vision. The black ooze from his eyes stained the floor, and Virgil looked for the source of the voice.

"H-hello?" Virgil choked out.

A short pause later, and the voice replied, "My name is Emile. Can you tell me yours?"

He thought for a moment before replying, "Virgil."

"Hello, Virgil. Can you tell me what you see?"

Virgil choked on a laugh. He blinked and scanned the room. "White. A lot of white. Um… a- a toilet. A door." A deep breath. "Uh, a… my hands."

Virgil looked to his right. He squinted and blinked. Across from him, another room mirrored his own. Sitting on the bed, criss cross, was another person. They sat with their back straight against the wall, their hands holding their kneecaps. They wore the same stark white outfit that Virgil wore. Their slicked back brown hair was either wet or greasy, Virgil couldn't tell, but what was really daunting was the black eye mask that covered their eyes and wrapped around their head with a thick brown strap. 

"You, I think," Virgil finally finished.

"Good, you did great," the person who called themselves Emile said. He smiled. "Can you hear me?"

"Y-yeah," Virgil replied, confused as to why Emile would ask now. 

"What else do you hear?"

Virgil half laughed. "My heartbeat. Um… that's… that's pretty much it."

"That's okay. You're still doing great."

"Not to be rude, but what's the point of all this?"

"To help you calm down."

Virgil blinked a few times. He stood up, using the wall to help him. Emile didn't follow his movements, but Virgil supposed the eye mask kept Emile from seeing anything.

"Huh," Virgil managed to say. He walked over to his bed and sat down. "Well I guess it's working."

"I should hope so." Emile smiled. "So, your name is Virgil?"

"Yeah."

"It's nice to meet you. How long have you been here?"

Virgil rubbed his arms. "Um… I… what do you mean?"

"The Institution. How long have you been here?"

"I… don't' know," Virgil responded. "I don't remember leaving my house."

Emile frowned at that. He tilted his head to the side and replied. "That's okay. You kinda lose sense of time here."

"W-what about you?" Virgil managed to ask.

"Oh, um," Emile laughed. "You know, I don't really know anymore."

Something about the way Emile said that dropped Virgil's stomach. Emile smiled, but it was so fragile that Virgil was sure it'd break at any moment. Virgil pulled his knees up to his stomach and cradled his legs with his arms. His toes curled into the scratchy sheets below him. His eyes focused on the eye mask around Emile's eyes, and he swallowed hard.

"So, uh, what's with the mask?" Virgil asked. "You just have eye surgery or something?"

Emile hummed and tilted his head. His eyebrows furrowed, but then they raised high. "Oh! It's to, ah, keep me from… from using my ability."

"What the f- what?"

"You see," Emile paused, "I can… well my eyes… they're a bit… you can really get lost in them." Emile laughed, but there was no mirth behind it. His fingers curled into fists. "How about you?"

"Me?" Virgil scratched his neck. The metal collar scratched back. He swallowed hard and left it alone. "I can paint the future I guess."

"That's an interesting one. How did you end up here with a gift like that?"

"I… I don't know."

Emile hummed at that. He took a deep breath in and out, and he continued, "Then you're a bargaining chip."

Virgil's head shot up. "A what?"

"If you were brought here for no reason, you're to keep me in line," Emile said and swallowed hard.

"What? What kind of-"

"It's their way. If you don't listen to them, they know you'll listen when someone else's life is on the line. It hurts worse when you're not the one getting hurt but someone else is hurt because of you."

"That's fucked up." The words left Virgil's throat before he could stop them, and he mumbled an apology.

"No need to apologize, Virgil. It is indeed, 'fucked up'. There's no nicer way to say it."

Virgil thought hard. He tried to remember what had happened before he got here. He closed his eyes. He remembered being at his house. He remembered this man… this man with sharp teeth smiling at him. No, grinning at him. Virgil's eyebrows creased. He said… something. Something about that person named Logan that his family kept mentioning.

"I don't think it's you I'm here for," Virgil said at last.

"Oh?" Emile tilted their head.

"Yeah. Um, I think I'm here for… for someone else."

"And who's that?" Emile frowned.

Virgil's shoulders shook as he laughed. "You know, I don't really know. All I know is this stupid place broke into my house and said something about this guy named Logan, but I don't know who he is."

Emile grew quiet. He rubbed his chin, and he chewed on his lips. Emile looked up ever so slightly, and they said, "I've met Logan."

"What can you tell me about them?" 

"Not much, other than he came here when he was really young. But-" he laughed- "he wasn't the only one who was brought here young."

"How old were you when… you know…"

"It was my 4th birthday," Emile's voice grew quiet. A slight southern drawl tipped his words. "It was a Sunday. I remember going to church, because my momma thought I was possessed by the devil. And these people showed up and said they could save my soul."

"Christ," Virgil mumbled. 

"Not exactly," Emile replied with a bitter laugh. "I'm sure he would've hated this place."

Virgil nodded. He shifted on his bed. Part of him wanted to sit next to Emile, but Emile might not appreciate the close proximity of a stranger, so he stayed where he was. 

Emile continued, "Instead of saving me, they wanted to use me. They found out I could… uh… control others. They hoped I'd use it to make other people listen but I… I didn't want to. I _don't_ want to. So they put me in here."

"Who did… did the other person who was in here before me… did they, um, did they die?" 

Emile shrugged. "I don't really know."

"What was their name, if you don't mind talking about them."

Emile rose his head, a sad smile on his face. He replied, "His name was Remy. I think he was a little younger than me. One day they came for him and," Emile sighed, "and he never came back."

"That's rough," Virgil whispered. 

"They never spoke about him. It's almost like he didn't exist anymore. But I… I believed whatever happened to him was my fault. So I… I started to listen to them. And I thought maybe then I'd be able to break free. And that… that's when I saw Logan."

Virgil jolted at that.

Emile continued, "He wasn't a kid anymore. He was, well, if I had to guess, I'd say he was about your age. He was so… so thin."

Virgil stood up. "How long ago was that?"

"Not long, actually. Maybe two days?"

Virgil swallowed hard. This Logan person, he was still alive. He existed.

"What was he like? Did he say anything about me, about my family?"

"He… he did," Emile took a shuddering breath, and a low laugh lingered on his lips. "But it wasn't his choice."

Virgil furrowed his brow. "What do you mean? What did they do to him?"

Emile stayed quiet. Virgil prompted him to speak again, but Emile chose to stare at the floor instead. He sighed and finally responded, "Now I know why you're here. You _are_ here for me."

Virgil furrowed his brow. He licked his lips and responded, "What? Why? Emile, what's going on? Why am I here for you? I don't even know you." 

Emile laughed darkly and rubbed his hand over his right eye, or at least where his eye should've been.

"Because I made Logan tell them who and what you are."

Virgil's blood ran cold then heated up like he threw himself into a hot tub. He stormed forward, his nails digging into his palm as he stalked forward.

"You- you son of a-"

Virgil hit something hard and smooth. He staggered backward and let out a yelp. Fingers massaged the ache forming in his temple. He opened his eyes and squinted.

Floating in front of him was a face print, but not just any face print. His face print. Virgil stepped forward and ran his fingers across the glass wall in front of him. His anger simmered in his stomach.

"I'm guessing you ran into the glass," Emile said with a sad smile. "It's a foot thick, meant to hold aquarium fish, or in this case, us."

Virgil paced back and forth like a tiger in a zoo. He gripped his hair, pulled, and growled through clenched teeth.

"I'll… I'm…"

"Deep breaths, Virgil."

"Shut up!" Virgil shouted. He punched the glass. His knuckles cracked, and Virgil bit back the scream in his throat. It successfully made Emile jump on the other side of the glass. Virgil panted through his pain. He sucked in a deep breath and swallowed the bile rising through his throat. "I'm never forgiving you for this."

Emile chuckled, a sad smile crossing his face. "Me either."

\--

_Event # 3823_

_Subject identification: #240_

_Sex: Male_

_Age: 27_

_Notes:_

_After being controlled by Subject #134, subject has revealed there may be one other person who knows the location of Unidentified Mutant #3. _

_Actions:_

_Requests for Mr. Virgil Cho to be collected for information extraction immediately._

_Status: COMPLETE_

\--

_Event #3824_

_Subject Identification: #134_

_Sex: Male_

_Age: 31_

_Notes:_

_Subject has successfully followed orders and extracted information from Subject #240, however, after completing the action, subject has attacked Dr. Patrickson after being asked to dig further. _

_Actions:_

_Request for negative reinforcement to be administered_

_Status: COMPLETE_

\--

_Subject # 90_

_Defect: Nightmare Inducement_

_Sex: Male_

_Age: 28_

_Test #: 4,362_

_Notes:_

_Subject has successfully altered traumatic nightmares in younger subject. Studies prove negative reinforcement for compliance is working._

_Test: PASSED_


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Logan hasn’t been doing too well since they came to IDONA. He’s hanging onto any hope he can get, but it’s coming back to haunt him in more ways than one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: vomit allusion, starvation mentions, eating mentions, imprisonment, loss of free will, body restraints, crying, contemplation of suicide, misgendering (though it’s very brief), i think that's it  
Word Count: 4495

Logan didn't know why they were suddenly given food after three days without, but they weren't about to complain. The food overpowered their senses, and they nearly choked on their first bite. However, they did manage to finish it. 

The water, on the other hand, did not go down so easily. 

Logan, unfortunately, ended up losing everything to the toilet that afternoon. They let their head rest against the cool porcelain as they sucked in deep breaths. In and out. In and out. Just like…

Just like Virgil taught them.

Logan's throat stung for a different reason at the thought of Virgil. They wished they didn't leave him alone on the front lawn, but what choice did they have? Those hunters were going to hurt Virgil and his family, and Logan couldn't go with that on their conscience. Besides, hopefully, since they came quietly, the organization allowed Virgil to live a peaceful life with his family, especially since Virgil didn't remember anything about Logan, and therefore would pass every lie detector test when asked to prove it.

Logan hoped Virgil didn't have to prove anything. 

For curiosity's sake, Logan allowed their gaze to cross over to the glass wall separating them and the boy in the other room. His fingers pressed up against the glass, his green eyes watching Logan's every move. For a moment, all the two of them did was stare at each other.

Fingers moved, and Logan tried to focus on them. From what Logan could guess, this was his way of communicating. Logan read somewhere it was called "sign language" or something like that. Over the past few months, this person (who Logan learned was named Roman) slowly taught Logan how to speak to him. A few signs were easy for Logan to recognize, like "are you okay" and "I'll kill them" since Roman repeated the gestures so often, but not all stuck. 

This time Roman seemed to try and say something about being sick if Logan guessed right. Their eyes were far too blurry to guess correctly.

"I'm satisfactory," Logan whispered. Their throat burned. They tried again a little louder, "I'm okay."

This answer didn't seem to satisfy Roman, who started pacing back and forth on the other side of the glass. Logan wondered if they interpreted something wrong. They followed Roman's motions until Roman started to sign to them again. Logan squinted through their tears.

_Are you sure?_

"I'm certain," Logan replied. They stood, got rid of the evidence of their illness, and laid down on their bed. It wasn't as comfortable as the last bed they had in the institution, but at least they didn't have to lay on the floor. They stared up at the ceiling, in no mood to communicate with Roman further. 

Their stomach gurgled unhappily, though Logan didn't know if it was because they got sick or didn't have anything in their stomach anymore. Logan would never know. They couldn't differentiate between the feeling of being hungry and being sick. 

Tapping on the glass caught Logan's attention. Curse Roman's incessant need for attention. They looked over at the glass, not even bothering to lift their head off the pillow. Roman stared at them, his eyebrows furrowed and shoulders tense.

"You're angry with me?" Logan guessed out loud.

Roman crossed his arms and pressed his forehead to the glass. Logan wondered how many times Roman could put oil on the glass before he shut himself off from Logan entirely. Various prints littered the glass. Some were smeared with blood, some with the black injection fluid, and others were smudged from Roman falling asleep against the glass. 

Logan sighed and sat up. Their headache returned tenfold, and they leaned back to keep themselves from falling onto the floor. They ended up hitting their head off the wall behind them instead. Logan allowed their head to lay against the cool white wall for a moment and catch their breath. The world spun, and they wondered if the institution would allow them to die of starvation.

They silently hoped so.

Roman's head perked up, and he stared at Logan's door. Strange, Logan didn't hear anything. The door, however, opened, and Logan watched as a man in a clean pressed lab coat stepped into the room.

"Dr. William," Logan spoke, their voice sounding like a garbage disposal, "to what do I owe the honor of a personal visit from you?"

Dr. William stood in the middle of the room. His eyes shifted over to Roman, who if stares could kill would've melted the head scientist into a puddle on the floor. He smirked and turned his eyes back to Logan.

"I wanted to thank you," he said.

"Thank me?" Logan repeated with a raised brow.

"Yes, for your cooperation. Of course, you may not recall what happened, but we got the information we needed."

Logan brought both brows down to shade their eyes. What was Dr. William talking about? What information did they reveal? They didn't say-

They didn't say…

Logan's eyebrows shot up to their hairline, and they tried to sit up. However, their balance spun, and they ended up gripping the bed so they didn't fall over. 

"You… you didn't," Logan panted.

"Oh, but we did, and for once, Subject #134 listened without question." Dr. William's smile almost reached the glasses on his face. "It was a productive day indeed."

"If you harm her-"

"Her?" Dr. William raised a brow. "I didn't know Virgil was a girl."

Logan's stomach dropped. If they didn't throw up everything before, they were sure their stomach would've ejected everything now.

No. Not Virgil. Not- anything but-

"We had a deal," Logan growled through their teeth.

Dr. William tapped his jaw with his finger. "Oh, yes, I recall that deal. We take you and leave Virgil and his family alone. That was the deal, wasn't it?"

Logan's stomach boiled as they hissed through their teeth, "Yes."

"Oh, but you see, that's before you told us that our dear Virgil could see the future, or more like paint it. Either way, he's a valuable asset to our team, and he may even help us locate other mutants in the future. We'd be stupid to let him free."

"You will," Logan wobbled to his feet. "You will release him."

Logan squared their jaw, and they set their feet apart. They recalled Virgil's stance when Virgil stopped those men from picking on a woman on the streets, and they did their best to copy it.

Dr. William, however, looked anything but intimidated. In fact, he looked amused. A hand reached up and pressed down on Logan's shoulder.

"Sit down before you hurt yourself," Dr. William scolded. He pushed, and Logan fell back onto the bed with a slight cry.

Pounding on the glass behind them grabbed Dr. William's attention, and he sighed before he turned to face Roman, who desperately tried to break the glass between them. He chuckled and shook his head.

"Always acting so tough, aren't you?" he said as he walked over to the glass. If there wasn't a barrier between them, Roman surely would've pounced on the scientist. However, he settled for glaring at him with all his might, praying that he'd gain heat vision to melt the glass entirely. Dr. William smirked before he continued, "You don't scare me."

Roman used a gesture that definitely wasn't sign language, as Virgil used it quite often, but it didn't seem to phase Dr. William. The scientist sighed and walked toward the door.

Logan raised their head, their legs quaking and unable to support their weight any longer. They growled, "If you harm Virgil, I will refuse to listen to you for the rest of my days here."

"Trust me, you won't." This time, Dr. William did look at Roman, a fire in his eyes that made Logan's stomach ache all over again. "I now have two bargaining chips. Listen to us, and maybe I'll let you see this Virgil that you hold so dear."

Without another word, Dr. William exited the room and closed Logan's door with a heavy thud. It echoed throughout Logan's cell, stilling their heart and their breath all at once. For a moment, all Logan could do was stare at the door. They briefly caught Roman moving out of the corner of their eye, but they couldn't react. They couldn't move. They couldn't breathe.

Then, all at once, they screamed.

And screamed.

Logan's leather locked hands found their face, and they pressed their palms into their eyes. Tears soaked their wrists and arms, and they choked on their breath. They screamed until their throat felt raw and their voice barely whispered. They cried until their tears no longer fell and their eyes ached. They shook until their body ached, and they collapsed onto their side. Logan didn't remember curling in on their side on the bed, but they didn't particularly care.

The one person they wanted to keep safe, the one person they wanted to be free, the one person that Logan wanted to be safe more than anyone else was here in this hell.

And it was all their fault.

They should've erased Virgil from their memory when they had the chance.

But they couldn't, could they? They had to be selfish. They had to keep Virgil alive in their memory and think of him to make themselves think they were a better person, that there was a reason they were here and not free, that they had something to exist for.

Now, if Virgil was here, what was the point?

Logan didn't remember falling asleep, but they must've. Their whole body ached, and they slowly sat up to blink awareness into their surroundings. Hopefully, yesterday didn't happen. Hopefully, it was all a bad dream, and they only dreamed Virgil ended up in this hell. 

Logan looked to their right, and they hummed, even if their voice burned their throat. Roman sat on the floor and faced the glass, his forehead pressed against it and eyes closed. He must've fallen asleep against it as well. When he woke, Logan would ask if yesterday was a dream. Hopefully Roman would clarify it was a nightmare, and Virgil wasn't here.

"Roman?" Logan questioned. Their voice barely reached a whisper. If their voice was this raw, that meant- they swallowed through the pain and tried again. "Roman." 

Roman didn't stir. How long was he lying there against the glass? Usually, he only did when Logan was in distress. For some reason, Roman didn't like watching Logan suffer. Logan's heart ached. 

If Roman was there, that meant… that meant there was a good chance yesterday was real.

Logan felt hot tears rush to their eyes again. They didn't think there were any tears left, but apparently, they were wrong. They quickly wiped them away and took a shuddering breath. Hands gripped the mattress so hard they matched the color of the white sheets.

Slowly, Roman sat up. He blinked and looked from side to side. Logan stared, waiting for Roman to become aware of his surroundings. Roman caught Logan's eye, and he put both his hands against the glass.

"Good morning," Logan said, making both of them flinch at the sound. 

Roman asked, _"Are you okay?"_

With a shaky breath, Logan replied, "No."

Roman's eyes looked down at that. His shoulders moved as he took a breath in and out, and he slightly nodded his head. Logan waited for Roman to sign something, but he was silent, and not because of the muzzle.

Logan stared straight ahead and let their mind wander. Dr. William said if they complied, he'd let Logan see Virgil. Perhaps they could explain everything. Virgil would listen, right?

Of course, Virgil was so anti-government that he might not listen, and he might get hurt before Logan could even reach him. That thought hurt Logan the most.

Roman knocked on the glass, catching Logan's attention again. They looked over, and Roman signed something too fast for Logan to catch. Logan squinted, and Roman growled behind his muzzle. He tried again much slower.

_What you… do-_ oh! _What are you going to do?_

"I don't know," Logan responded. Their voice couldn't reach above a whisper, but they still responded nonetheless.

Roman sighed and looked down, nodding his head ever so slightly. Logan didn't know if it was in agreement or sympathy, but it didn't matter. They settled into silence again, as they always did since it was usually a one sided vocal conversation.

Roman waited a long time before he started signing again.

"What are you sorry for?" Logan asked. "You didn't do this. I-" their throat locked up and they cleared their throat- "I did."

Roman ever so slightly shook his head no, but really it looked like his head was twitching. Logan asked once if the muzzle made his muscles stiff, and Roman responded with something that stilled Logan's breath. They couldn't imagine not being able to move their neck or speak.

They wondered what Roman's voice sounded like. Every time the muzzle was removed, Roman was out of the room and far away from Logan. They wondered why. Why wouldn't they allow Roman to speak to them? Was his voice that dangerous?

Roman moved again, and Logan tried their best to concentrate. He said something about the institution, they thought, and another thing about Virgil- Virgil being fine. Logan took a deep breath.

"I sure hope so."

\--

Two days passed. Logan got food on both days, and thankfully they only lost it once. They were smart enough to eat half then save the rest for later, hoping that eating the food gradually would ease their stomach into keeping food down. 

On the second day, two scientists came to take Roman. Logan watched as Roman didn't resist but didn't allow the scientists to touch him either. Logan watched and waited. It was all they could really do.

Time traveled slowly without Roman. Logan had to admit, as much as Roman annoyed Logan with his constant need for attention and fast hand signals, they enjoyed his company. Roman gave Logan something to focus on. He was always checking on them, making sure they were alright after experimentation. He was there when Logan couldn't see after the black ooze took away their vision for a whole day. He was there when Logan didn't comply and Roman paid the price, a fierce determination in his eyes telling Logan not to worry about him (Logan did, but they'd never tell Roman that). He was there when Logan got thrown into isolation, writing his name over and over until Logan finally picked up on the invisible letters up.

Logan laid down on their bed and waited. It was all they really could do. They found their eyelids growing heavy. Strange, they never felt this tired before Roman got back, especially when the doctors came for him early in the morning, and with no clock or sun, Logan had no idea how to tell how long they'd been waiting.

When Logan woke up, Roman still wasn't back. They started pacing. Roman would be back. His experimentation was just taking longer than usual. That's all it was. Logan was overwhelmed with eating, which would raise their serotonin level, which would make them more tired than normal. It was biological science.

When a plate with food slid through the bottom of the door, Logan knew a whole day had passed. They couldn't bring themselves to eat a bite. Something… something happened. Something was wrong. Why wasn't Roman back yet? Did he get moved out of isolation? No, Dr. William wouldn't move him. He knew Roman meant something to Logan. However, with the arrival of Virgil, he could've moved Roman to make Logan feel more alone.

And darn, it was working.

Logan stopped pacing eventually and settled on staring at the door. Watching. Waiting. Watching and waiting. Watching and waiting for Roman to return. Watching his hope disappear with each breath. Waiting for someone to tell him something happened to Roman and he wouldn't come back.

Somehow, that made Logan feel worse than not knowing where Roman was.

As the day went on, Logan's eyes started to droop once again. However, no matter how many times they closed their eyes, they couldn't stop thinking of Roman. Sometimes they opened them to see if Roman came back. Sometimes they woke up because Roman did come back, but horribly beaten and bruised. Thankfully when they opened their eyes, they discovered it was just a dream, but it still didn't answer their question.

Was Roman okay?

Was Roman even still alive?

Another plate slid under Logan's door. They couldn't even take a bite without feeling sick. Two. Two days. Two days and Roman still hadn't come back. Where was he? What was going on? Logan walked over to the door and started to pound on it.

"Can anyone hear me?" they yelled through. "Please, I just need an answer."

Any answer. Anything was better than this… this waiting. Waiting and Watching. Waiting for the inevitable bad news. Watching for Roman's dead body to come through the door.

Logan sat in the middle of their floor. Their fingers wove together as they rested leather fingers against their lips. Nothing felt real anymore. They lost track of how long they stared at the door. They lost track of the footsteps passing by. They didn't particularly care if they lasted another day. They just wanted to know Roman was okay.

A lock clicked, and Logan's head snapped over to Roman's room. However, Roman's door didn't open. It was theirs. Logan jolted to their feet and took two steps back. Two scientists, the same two that walked through the door to take Roman, stood in Logan's doorway. Logan set their jaw and swallowed hard.

"Good morning, Subject #240," one greeted. The other grabbed onto Logan's bicep. The gentle squeeze reminded them that any chance of escape would be met with discipline. If it wasn't for the thought of Virgil being somewhere in the facility, Logan wouldn't have cared.

"Where are we going?" Logan asked.

"Your presence is required," was what the scientist answered.

The trio weaved through the hallways, the sound of misery clashing with the sound of their heavy boots on the floor. Logan's bare feet barely made a noise. They watched door after door passed them by. Was Virgil behind one of them? Did he even know why?

The doors to the injection room opened, and Logan blinked the bright light away from their vision. They squinted and caught sight of the restraining table in the middle of the floor.

Dr. Patrickson stalked around the table and scribbled something on his clipboard. He didn't even look up as he spoke, "Strap him down."

Logan swallowed back the "them" in their throat. No correction of pronouns ever worked, and all it did was make their life unpleasant. They allowed the other two scientists to place them against the table, lock their wrists and ankles to the table, and strap the last one over their chest and arms. The cold metal gave Logan some feeling back in their body, but for the most part, they were still completely numb.

"Did you sleep well?" Dr. Patrickson asked.

Logan simply stared back.

After a few seconds of waiting, Dr. Patrickson sighed and shook his head. "Need I remind you that any form of defiance will be met with discipline. Are you willing to accept that risk?"

"Clearly," Logan responded.

Dr. Patrickson glanced up from his clipboard and caught Logan's eye. He sighed and tapped his pen against the paper.

"That's unfortunate," Dr. Patrickson responded. He set the clipboard down and walked behind Logan. Logan tried to follow his movements, but they couldn't see anything behind the metal table they were strapped to. Instead, they decided to focus straight ahead into the black nothingness.

"May I ask why I've been brought in today?" Logan asked.

Logan waited for a response, but Dr. Patrickson didn't offer one. They rested their head against the cool table and took as deep a breath as the strap would allow them to. Dr. Patrickson returned to the corner of their vision, and Logan moved their eyes over to look at him. From there, Logan's ears, eyes, and throat were checked for any ailments. Every time Logan was asked a question about their health, they gave short answers. Their heart rate was checked next, along with their blood pressure and blood sugar.

"Your sugar levels are low," Dr. Patrickson mumbled. "Haven't you been eating? You've been scheduled to get a meal every day."

"I couldn't keep anything down," Logan responded.

"Patient is experiencing nausea," Dr. Patrickson said as he scribbled down Logan's response on the paper. "Any other issues, such as headache, coughing, sneezing, physical pains?"

Logan thought hard about their answer. Their heart ached, their muscles ached, their eyes ached… everything. However, they knew why, and it wasn't because of an illness.

"Where is Roman?" Logan finally answered.

Dr. Patrickson looked up at that, and he met Logan's steely blue eyes. He sighed and nodded his head. "I see. You're worried sick."

"I haven't seen him for two days and have no idea what his physical condition is. Of course I would be," Logan responded. They bit back the biting addition to their response in their throat, knowing no good would come from saying it.

"Roman is fine."

Logan waited for any other explanation. They watched as Dr. Patrickson stepped out of their vision once again, and Logan swallowed hard.

They mumbled, "I don't believe you."

"I don't blame you," Dr. Patrickson responded with a light laugh. "I wouldn't believe me either."

"Where is Roman?" Logan asked again, a little more forceful.

Dr. Patrickson sighed. His footsteps closed in on Logan once again, and he ignored Logan to write once again. Logan's stomach boiled. They squeezed their hands into fists and gave an experimental tug under the metal bars. They knew they couldn't break free from experience, but it wouldn't hurt to try, would it? 

"Where is Roman?!" Logan yelled. Their voice echoed throughout the room and stilled Dr. Patrickson's movements.

"Mind. Your. Tone," was all Dr. Patrickson responded with.

Logan swallowed hard, their jaw clenched shut. Their chest strained against the restraint as they took sharp breaths. Why wasn't he answering them? What happened to Roman?

Dr. Patrickson finally turned around to face Logan. He put the clipboard down on the table beside them and leaned in close. Logan stared back. They refused to let the scientists intimidate them with too close glares.

"Roman is fine," Dr. Patrickson repeated. "Now, since our physical examination is over, when you return to your cell, and I expect you to eat. I can conduct our next experiment without your vital signs being normal, but I'd prefer not to."

"And why is that?" Logan asked.

"Because I've seen what happens if I don't," Dr. Patrickson answered. They stood, and they grabbed a walkie talkie. "Subject #240 is ready for transport to the next location. Vital signs are too low to continue with Subject #90 today."

"Is that what happened to Roman?" Logan asked. "Did you hurt him?"

Dr. Patrickson sighed and put the walkie talkie down. He turned and chuckled low under his breath. Without another word, he opened the door and stepped outside. The door closed with a heavy click.

"I've done everything you've asked of me," Logan yelled at nothing. Their head fell against the table, and they took calming breaths. Their voice whispered, "I did… everything, so why…"

Why was everyone they were close to getting hurt?

The door opened, and Logan waited for the restraints around their wrists, chest, and legs to be unlocked. They stood, and two strong hands grabbed their arms. They thought about running. They thought about racing after Dr. Patrickson and choking the answers out of him. However, they also knew no good would come from it, so there was no point in trying. 

Virgil's life was still on the line.

To Logan's surprise, they weren't led back to their room. They were instead brought down a long hallway to the normal experiment holding cells. Logan wondered if the scientists were moving them from isolation, but their hopes were dashed when they were pulled into the testing room. The door opened, and Logan stepped inside.

If they ate something, they would've surely lost it.

Strapped down to the chair in front of them were too familiar brown eyes, too familiar brown hair, too familiar twitchy motions, too familiar panicked eyes, a too familiar locked jaw-

"Virgil," Logan whispered.

Dr. William stood behind Virgil, who struggled against the strong bars around his wrists. His eyes never left Logan, a fear in them that Logan never wanted to see. 

"I am a man of my word if anything," Dr. William said. His sickening smile spread across his lips. "A deal is a deal, Logan."

"Logan," Virgil said as he stopped struggling. His voice scratched against his throat like he misused it for hours. Logan wondered if that was the case.

The hands holding Logan's arms released, but Logan made no move toward or away from Virgil. They didn’t even notice the leather gloves being unlocked from their wrists. Their entire body froze in place, and they simply watched as Virgil sat completely still in their chair. Waiting. Watching. Waiting for the worst. Watching to see if Logan would hurt him.

"However, in order to keep seeing Virgil, there's something you need to do for me," Dr. William said.

"Of course," Logan responded. "Nothing ever comes free."

"Exactly. See, you do learn quickly." Dr. William leaned against the back of Virgil's chair, a move that irritated Logan. He continued, "I want you to restore Virgil's lost memories of you."

"What?" Logan and Virgil both said at once.

"You," Virgil breathed out. "You're the one- you're why I can't- what is he talking about?"

Logan swallowed hard. "I… I cannot do that. I haven't learned how."

"Well, no better subject to learn how to. Think about it. You restore Virgil's memories, and you get your friend back. It's a win-win, really."

Dr. William walked past Virgil and patted Logan's shoulder. Logan flinched, but they didn't move from their spot.

"Take your time. I'll give you an hour to figure it out. Don't worry if you can't, though. I'll let you try again tomorrow. And the next day. And the day after that." Dr. William leaned in close. "But just know, the longer you wait, the worse it is for Roman."

Logan smacked William's hand away and glared daggers. The motion brought a sharp grin to Dr. William's face, and he walked toward the door. He whispered something to the people outside of the room, and the door closed with a stomach dropping slam, leaving the two trapped people inside alone.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Virgil and Logan meet up for the first time in a year, and it’s not the reunion Logan was hoping for. Neither was their reunion with another person, who also is relying on Logan to get things right. They’re under a lot more pressure then they bargained for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: multiple vomit mentions, physical restraints, imprisonment, forced captivity, physical torture, blood, death mention, torture descriptions, wound descriptions  
Word Count: 4,226

For a while, all Logan and Virgil did was stare at each other.

Logan had to be having a nightmare. It was the only way they could comprehend that Virgil was here, staring at them with such fear in his eyes that Logan wanted to throw up. They blinked hard several times, but Virgil refused to disappear.

Virgil glared right back. The corner of his lip curled, and if it wasn’t for his eyes betraying what he felt in his soul, he would’ve looked dangerous. His hands gripped the edge of the chair he was strapped to, the muscles around his wrists bulging inside their prison. Virgil’s breath started to speed up the longer Logan stared.

“What?” Virgil growled at last. "Quit staring."

The sharp statement snapped Logan out of their daze. They shook their head to stir themselves from the rest of their lost thoughts and bit their lip.

“Salutations,” was all they could think to say.

“Cut the crap,” Virgil snapped. “You. You’re the reason I’m here, aren’t you?”

Logan flinched and looked down. They took a deep breath and let it out in a shaky exhale. For a moment, they contemplated speaking, but they settled on nodding their head.

“Who are you?” Virgil asked. “My family talked about you for weeks. My sister cried over you. She said- she said I had to save you. I don’t even know who you are. What is going on!”

Virgil’s shout echoed around the room. Logan held their ground, despite wanting to cower. They never wanted to face Virgil’s anger, his bluntness, his pain. They sighed and started to take a step forward.

“Don’t,” Virgil snapped, stilling Logan’s steps. “You stay right over there. Don’t you even think of coming near me or I’ll- I’ll- I haven’t figured it out yet, but I’ll-”

“Virgil, please calm down,” Logan whispered.

“Calm down? Calm down. I’m stuck in IODNA which is apparently an evil facility, and I’ve been working for the man this whole time, and you expect me to calm down?” Virgil let out a sarcastic laugh. His face steeled. “At least I know you got a sense of humor.”

Logan sighed through their nose. They sat on the ground, folded their legs underneath them, and placed their hands on their knees. Steel blue eyes studied the floor as Virgil’s cold gray eyes studied them. 

“I’m sorry.”

“That’s all you got to say to me? I’m sorry? I don’t even know what you’re sorry about.”

“They lied to me.”

“About what?”

“They said they wouldn’t hurt you if I came willingly.”

Virgil set his jaw and glared at Logan past the tip of his nose. “Why?”

“Because I never wanted you to-”

“No, I mean, why me? Why do _you_ care about _me_? What- I don’t know who you are or why you know me.”

“I know, and that’s my fault.”

Another long pause settled between the two of them. Logan wondered how much time they had left. Could they even get close enough to Virgil to try anything? Would it benefit them at all to try? No, Virgil was always hard to gain the trust of. Even when they first met, Virgil wasn’t sure what to make of Logan.

Virgil watched Logan, his hard exterior cracking slightly. He could tell from Logan’s too thin body, their too dark, sunken in eyes, their defeated expression, that they were just as much a prisoner here as he was. Virgil flexed and unflexed his fingers three times. He looked away from Logan at last and formed his words carefully inside his head. He recalled what Dr. Willaim whispered to Logan before he left.

“Hey,” Virgil mumbled, “they said they had this Roman person too. Who are they? Do I… do I know them too?”

Logan’s lips quirked for a moment, and they snuffed through their nose. “Not your problem, that’s what he is.”

“No, they said they were going to use Roman against you. I’m not stupid. Who is Roman?”

“Roman is-” Logan paused. They tried again. “Roman is someone I was imprisoned with for the past year. He is… he is the last person I… I think he’s a friend. I know I’m lonely when he’s not around, and I worry about him when they’re hur- when they’re experimenting on him.”

Virgil stayed quiet. He watched Logan’s expression soften while talking about Roman, and his heart twitched. Logan talked about Roman the same way Virgil would talk about Flora. Whatever the connection between them was, Logan thought very highly of this Roman person.

“How long have you been here?” Virgil asked.

Logan took a moment to think. They replied, “I have been here since I was six years of age.”

Virgil flinched at that. He blinked his surprise away. “That’s a long ass time.”

Logan lightly laughed. “That’s what you said the first time you met me as well.”

Virgil waited for them to explain what they meant by that, but Logan didn’t look like they were in an exposition mood. Virgil tapped his fingers on the chair arm. He wished he could fiddle with his zippers on his jacket. He wished he could pull the hood over his head and draw the strings tight. Anything was better than this awkward torture between him and someone he was supposed to know but didn’t.

“Why did you erase my memories?” Virgil asked.

Logan didn’t answer.

“Hey. Why did you erase my memories of you? Flo told me- you know who Flo is, right, because she sure as hell knows you for some reason.”

“Yes, I’m well acquainted with Flora.”

“Good, because she’s hella worried about you. Kept saying something about how we never got to bake cookies together. What was that about?”

“Because the day I left, I was creating cookie dough with you. You were showing me how.”

A small smile came to Virgil's lips, but it disappeared soon after. “So you were in my house when it happened?”

“I was technically in your backyard, but yes, I was there.”

“They don’t know about her too, do they?”

“I’m unsure what you are talking about.”

Virgil stayed quiet, his eyes glancing between his two options. Should he tell or should he keep it a secret? Better leave it alone. He didn’t know if he could trust this Logan person, and he wasn’t about to reveal his sister’s secret if he couldn’t.

“Nevermind,” Virgil grumbled at last. He tapped his finger twice on the chair and thought about his next sentence carefully. “Why do they want my memories back?”

Logan let all the air out of their lungs. They shook their head, and they were about to answer when the doors to the room opened. Logan flinched, and Virgil set his jaw.

“Oh, dear, I’m afraid times up for now,” Dr. William said.

Logan’s heart pounded in their chest. Their lips searched for the words they were trying to speak, and their voice squeaked. “I need more-”

“You’re out of time,” Dr. William snapped. He smoothed over his persona and responded in a gentler tone, “Don’t worry. I know first tries are hard, so I’ll forgive you this time. Consider it a gift.”

Logan stared down at the floor and swallowed hard. Virgil’s anger swelled, and he snapped, “Hey, leave them alone. What did they ever do to you, old man?”

Dr. William glanced over in interest, and Logan’s head snapped over in shock. Dr. William walked past Logan, who didn’t move a muscle, and stood directly in front of Virgil.

“You’re a spunky one, aren’t you?” Dr. William said with a grin. “It’s been a while since someone was bold enough to talk to me like that.”

“Yeah, well, get used to it,” Virgil responded. Dr. William’s eyes narrowed.

Nails on a chalkboard scraped Virgil’s brain. Virgil’s whole body plunged into fire. He tensed every muscle, which spasmed at the same time. Virgil tried to scream, but his throat closed up. His eyes were frozen in horror, his jaw clamped closed. A long wine escaped his throat. He couldn’t breathe. Darkness crept into the corners of his vision. Were his ears bleeding? Bile rose to the back of his throat and burned his esophagus.

“Stop,” Logan shouted, but they didn’t move. They shook as they begged, “Please, leave him alone. He didn’t know better. He-”

“He’ll know now,” Dr. William responded.

Virgil collapsed into his chair and panted. His whole body felt like it was run over by a steam roller. Sweat beaded his head, and he stared at the ground.

Dr. William pinched Virgil’s cheeks and forced his head up, earning a surprised cry from Virgil. Logan jolted, but they still didn’t move any closer. Virgil’s eyes lost his confidence in the dark abyss of Dr. William’s eyes.

“Next time you want to speak to me, I’d be a little nicer so that doesn’t happen again,” Dr. William said. He let Virgil's head collapsed against his chest. Dr. William wiped the blood from Virgil’s ears on his white jacket and clicked his tongue. He turned on his heel and walked over towards Logan. “Come on, Logan. It’s time to go.”

Logan refused to move. Their eyes stayed locked on Virgil, their lips repeating his name like a prayer. Dr. William sighed. He put a hand on Logan’s head, and Logan flinched. 

Dr. William continued, “Come now. I’ll even give you a present for having to watch that.”

Logan’s gaze broke from Virgil, and they stared at their fisted hands. They wanted to strike. They wanted to lash out and hurt, but they knew what would happen. Nothing good would come from it. They wouldn’t suffer; everyone else would. They couldn’t do that. Not again.

Finally, after what felt like years later, Logan stood. They kept their eyes on the ground, refusing to look at Virgil. They didn’t want to see Virgil’s reaction to them listening. They didn’t want to see how betrayed Virgil felt, how helpless Virgil was to stop this. Logan swallowed hard. Two other scientists came in and locked them back inside their leather gloves. They watched the process with numb blood running through their veins.

The first step out of Virgil’s room was the hardest. For a moment, they thought Virgil would call out for them, but all they heard was silence. Somehow, that was worse.

The walk back to their room took forever and no time at all. Logan replayed Virgil’s words over and over in their head. How were they supposed to bring his memories back? Could they even? They could tell Virgil everything, but that wouldn’t help in the long run. The scientists would find out Virgil was only told his memories instead of them being reinstated, and things would only get worse from there. Lying only ever got one person far in this place.

The door to Logan’s room slid open. They stepped inside, and their eyes immediately snapped over to Roman's room. Empty, just like Logan’s hope. They shook their head. They should’ve known-

Something was on their bed. Logan’s breath caught in their throat, and the door slammed closed behind them. They went still as a board, and their body shivered all over until their bones rattled.

“Ro-” Logan couldn’t finish. They were afraid if they said his full name he'd disappear. They took a step forward, and their knees buckled from underneath them. Too much. This was too much. They covered their mouth to try and stop the undignified whine from escaping.

Slowly, painfully slowly, slow enough to make Logan’s joints creak, Logan made their way over to their bed. They ran a hand through hastily cut caramel colored hair, feeling how cold the skin below it was. 

“Ro-” Logan tried again, but they couldn’t get any farther. They examined the black eye Roman now sported, marking his otherwise beautiful face. The muzzle on his face and neck dug into his skin, and Logan wondered when it was last removed. They imagined what the skin beneath it looked like, and they wanted to vomit.

Logan covered Roman with their blanket. They sat behind him and cradled his head on their lap. Their fingers trembled as they brushed through Roman’s hair. 

“Please,” Logan said as they choked on their own voice. A teardrop fell from Logan’s face, and they swallowed their tears back the best they could. Roman was alive, right? They wouldn’t dump his corpse in here with Logan, right? Please, please tell them Roman was alive. “Roman, please-”

Logan couldn’t finish the sentence. They pressed their forehead to Roman’s frozen skin and let a long sob overtake them. Too much. This was too much. First Virgil and now Roman-

“Please,” they whispered again. They moved their fingertips to Roman’s wrist and waited. They couldn’t feel anything through their gloves. Logan whined. They tried a different spot. Since their gloves were too thick, they couldn’t tell if Roman had a pulse or not. All they could do was wait.

Logan didn’t know how long they sat there with Roman cradled in their lap. All they knew was Roman never moved. 

A song played at the back of Logan’s head. It was muffled, slow, sweet, and low like a young boy sang it. Logan’s head started to pound. They rubbed their temple with their gloves. Who was singing? Where did it come from?

A…

Ah…

Ave…

The song stopped as Roman shifted. Logan held their breath, and they watched Roman as if their life depended on it. Eyelids squeezed shut then fluttered open to reveal those glistening emerald eyes trapped behind them.

Logan couldn’t care less whether they choked on their own tears or not.

“Roman,” Logan croaked out. 

Roman took a moment to register what he was seeing. He sucked a sharp breath through his nose, and he tried to move his body, but it didn’t seem to want to move. A low wine whispered behind his muzzle, and he squeezed his eyes shut.

“Don’t,” Logan warned. They touched Roman’s shoulder, and Roman flinched. Logan swallowed. Did they want to observe the damage? They moved their fingers to Roman’s shirt collar, and their eyes asked for permission. “Blink once if I can take your shirt off and twice for no.”

One blink.

Logan waited, but the second one never came. They prepared themselves, and they slowly peeled Roman’s shirt off.

Thank god they didn’t eat anything.

The first thing they saw was long gashes running across Roman’s chest. They were welted and crisscrossed over each other. Roman’s shoulder looked out of place. His wrists were colored a deep purple in the shape of metal restraints. If Logan had to guess, there was a matching set on Roman’s ankles, but they couldn’t bear to look.

“Oh, Roman,” they whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

Roman narrowed his eyes. Logan wished they could hear Roman’s voice- that was if Roman could even speak- just to hear his thoughts. They knew it would never happen. Those scientists were bent on Roman never speaking to Logan, but why? What secrets did Roman have that Logan couldn’t hear?

Logan continued to absentmindedly run their fingers through Roman’s hair. That song started to sing through their head again. Muffled, but there, like they listened to it through the wall.

Ave…

Ave… ma-

What was it?

A cold hand rested on Logan’s bony hand, and they glanced at it. Roman’s thumb stroked back and forth on their thumb. Logan’s eyes traveled to Roman’s face. They could see the pain glistening in Roman’s eyes, but Roman still wanted to be there for them. It warmed Logan’s heart a small bit.

Logan asked, “Do you know why they did this to you? Blink once for yes and twice for no.” 

Roman blinked once.

“Was it… was it because of me?”

Roman blinked twice fast. 

“Are you lying to make me feel sufficient?”

Roman hesitated too long before he blinked twice.

Logan let out a long sigh. They stared at the wall, lost in thought. They knew it. Roman was here to send them a message. This… this is what was going to happen if they failed. This would be the last time they’d get to touch Roman, see Roman, know Roman was alive. This was just the beginning, and if Logan failed, this was only going to get worse.

“I’m so sorry,” Logan started. “All this is because of me. If I would’ve stayed here instead of escaping with Virgil, none of this would’ve happened. I knew it was a fool’s dream, but I still listened, and-”

Roman’s hand rubbed a tear from Logan’s face. Logan pressed their cheek into Roman’s touch, and they brought a hand up to cradle Roman’s hand with their own. Even without Roman’s fast signs, Logan knew what Roman was saying. It wasn’t their fault. It was never their fault. The situation was impossible for them to control. It was a lie, a sweet lie Logan wished they could believe, but they appreciated Roman trying.

“What am I going to do? If I don’t bring back Virgil’s memories, they’re going to continue hurting you, and I- I couldn’t- I don’t want-”

Roman struggled to sit up. Logan put their hand on Roman’s shoulder to keep Roman down, but Roman pushed it away. Roman’s legs swung over the bed, and his nose panted with pain. His eyes were squeezed closed, and Logan heard the harsh swallow whine beneath Roman’s muzzle as he sat up.

Roman caught his breath while Logan held his.

To the best of his ability, Roman turned toward Logan. His arms lifted and spread wide, asking permission. Logan eyed all the damage on Roman's chest and shook their head.

“I’ll hurt you.”

Roman’s raised eyebrow showed he didn’t care.

“Please, not now.”

Roman’s arms lowered, and he let out a long sigh. Of course he’d respect Logan’s wishes. However, Logan had to wonder if the hug was more for Roman than it was for them. Perhaps when Roman got better- if they could- if they got another chance-

Roman tapped something on Logan’s glove. The rhythm felt so familiar. 

Press- Tap. Pause... Tap. Pause... Tap. Press- Tap. Pause... Press- Tap. Tap.

Logan stared down at their hand and sighed. They wanted to ask Roman what it meant, but they knew they wouldn’t get an answer.

Wait.

“Roman,” Logan said, “does that mean something?”

Roman shrugged.

Logan sighed and nodded their head. Seems they were both lost in their strange ways. That song continued to haunt the back of Logan’s mind, and they wondered if it meant something. If only they knew what it was.

Roman’s hands rose to his face, and his short fingernails clawed at the muzzle around his cheeks. He must’ve tried three times to peel it off before he moved to the back. His fingers pulled at the leather straps locked together, his throat grunting with effort. Eventually, Roman let his arms fall back at his sides as he panted heavily. A long groan left his lips, and frustrated tears welled up in his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Logan said, “That must be incredibly painful.”

Roman snorted, and he took a deep breath. 

“I wish I could remove it for you, but I did not learn how to pick a lock.” They probably should’ve asked Virgil how when they had the chance.

Roman shrugged, and he turned his head toward Logan. Logan wished they could tell what expression was hiding under the mask. For now, he’d settle on Roman’s hand on their own.

“I suppose they won’t let you…” Logan’s voice trailed off. They didn’t want to finish that sentence. They didn’t want to banish Roman with their words. It was bad enough their time had a limit as it was, but to say it and leave the truth hanging in the air-

Roman sighed, and he closed his eyes. 

“When they come for you, please don’t fight them.”

Roman turned fast toward Logan. If it hurt, Roman didn’t make a sound. His eyes looked wild with anger, and Logan couldn’t understand Roman’s words, but they knew disapproving sounds when they heard them.

“I’m serious, Roman. Don’t make this worse for yourself than you have to. You’re better off not fighting-”

Roman put his hands in Logan’s own and cradled them. He rubbed circles into their knuckles, and Roman let out a long breath. His eyes flashed from Logan’s hands up to Logan’s face. He tapped that pattern back on Logan’s skin.

Press- Tap. Pause... Tap. Pause... Tap. Press- Tap. Pause... Press- Tap. Tap.

What did that mean?

Logan sighed and let their shoulders drop. Roman’s gaze softened, and he brought his forehead close. Logan closed the gap, pressing both their forehead together, just like they did on the glass after the other went through harsh testing. Only this time it was warm and clammy and comforting and painful all at the same time.

“I wish I had a book to read,” Logan whispered. “Maybe I could fill in the silence for the both of us.”

Roman snuffed, and his shoulder shook in a light laugh. It preceded a long sigh. For a few more moments, the two of them sat together with their foreheads pressed up against one another. For the first time since they arrived, Logan felt right.

Of course, all good things had to come to an end. 

Logan and Roman cuddled up close. Logan pressed Roman’s back into their stomach, and they ran their fingers through his hair. Roman must’ve loved the physical contact because he melted in Logan’s touch. 

Logan told Roman everything that they could remember about their life. How they came to be here. How they met Virgil. How they escaped. How they spent six months in the real world. How they sacrificed themselves in vain. Roman heard the story so many times before, but he stayed silent throughout the whole thing. The vibrations from Logan’s chest soothed Roman into a deep sleep. His head rested on Logan’s shoulder, and Logan didn’t realize Roman dozed off until soft snores vibrated against their shoulder. Logan’s voice trailed off, and they took in a deep breath.

Something about Roman’s company felt right.

For a moment, Logan let their guard down as well. Their eyes slipped closed, and they took deep, soothing breaths. For a moment, Roman and their breathing synchronized. Logan’s face pressed up against Roman’s cheek, and their unconsciousness took them into the dark.

* * *

_Press- Tap. Pause... Tap. Pause... Tap. Press- Tap. Pause... Press- Tap. Tap._

_A laugh. _

_“Prep.”_

_Tap. Pause... Tap. Tap. Tap. Pause... Press- Tap. Press- Tap. Pause... Tap. Press- Pause... Tap. Press- Press- Tap. Pause... Tap._

_“I don’t know.”_

_Tap. Press- Tap. Tap. Pause... Press- Press- Press- Pause... Tap. Tap. Tap. Press- Pause... Tap. Pause... Tap. Press- Tap._

_“What? No. I don’t know. Maybe?”_

_Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Pause... Tap. Press- Pause... Press- Pause... Tap._

_“I’m sorry, please don’t cry.”_

_Tap. Tap. Press- Tap. Pause... Tap. Press- Tap. Pause... Tap. Tap. Pause... Tap.Pause... Press- Tap. Pause... Press- Tap. Tap._

_“I’m still your friend. I’ll always be your friend.”_

_Tap. Press- Press- Tap. Pause... Tap. Press- Tap. Tap. Pause... Tap. Pause...Tap. Press- Pause... Tap. Tap. Tap. Pause... Tap._

_“Just give me some time, please.”_

_Press- Tap. Press- Press- Pause... Tap. Pause... Tap. Tap. Tap._

_“Thank you.”_

* * *

A bang opened Logan’s eyes. They tried to move, but Roman’s heavy weight against their chest kept them still. Logan caught the two scientists making their way over to their bed. They heard Roman’s breath catch in his throat, and his whole body stiffened against them. 

One scientist grabbed onto Roman’s injured arm and pulled. Roman’s voice screamed through his nose.

“Hey!” Logan protested, trying to grab onto Roman, but the other scientist easily held them down. They wished they kept their strength up. Roman looked ready to put up a fight as well, but he lacked the strength to struggle out of the scientist’s arms.

“Let him go!” Logan yelled from the bed. They watched as Roman was carried out of the room, trashing the best he could through his injuries. Logan was sure Roman opened something up on his way out.

Standing in the doorway as Roman was carried off was none other than Dr. William himself.

“You will not hurt him,” Logan demanded.

“Oh of course not,” Dr. William purred. His mouth slid into a sickening fanged grin. “You’re the one who is going to hurt him if you don’t figure out how to return Virgil’s memories. This is all your call, Logan. You decide Roman’s fate.”

Logan shrugged off the scientist holding them. If they were braver, they would’ve jumped up and punched Dr. William in the face. However, they knew the consequences, and they were too much of a coward to disobey. 

“Have a nice night,” Dr. William said as he slammed the door closed, leaving Logan in total isolation once more.

Logan curled in on themself. Already Roman’s warmth left them. They wrapped their arms around their body tighter to try and preserve it, but they knew it was a losing battle. They let out a long, shuddering breath. 

“I’m sorry Roman,” they whispered as they buried their face in their hands. “I’m so sorry. Just give me some time.”

A long shaky sigh.

“Please?”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patton starts to grow antsy doing nothing. A secret meeting happens down by the docks, Logan and Virgil make some sort of progress. It’s pretty smooth sailing until it’s not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: mentions of captivity, imprisonment, physical restraints, blackmailing, food mentions, physical torture  
Word Count: 4,585

Somewhere within the city, an abandoned building turned itself into a refuge center.

Within the year of being here, Patton watched people come and go. He watched new people join their team. He watched funeral services held for those who left before their time. He healed more wounds than he could count. He felt emotions so dark that he hoped he never had to feel them himself. 

The problem was the one person that Patton wanted to see pass through the door the most never did.

That's how he got tricked into coming here, after all. That Roman copycat tricked him into following, and Patton stupidly agreed. Patton didn't remember how he got here or why, but he knew he couldn't leave. It was too dangerous, they said. They were looking for him.

The Institute of Outstanding Disabilities and Neurological Assessments that was.

Patton got to see some familiar faces here. He spent most of his time with Puteri, who was just as worried for Roman as he was. He even got to have lunch with Nor and Damia every day. They told him about their plans, about how they were working on exposing the organization and breaking everyone trapped out.

They had to be careful though. The organization was always watching, and they were too deep into the pockets of politicians to break up. They were a hospital, according to most of the reports. They "helped" people, they fixed memories, altered neurodivergence, healed disabilities. They were a "good" thing for normal people.

Those people had no idea what lied below the halls of that hospital.

The door to Patton's room opened, and he looked up. Those heterochromatic eyes that Patton grew used to seeing every day smiled at him. Patton returned the gesture and sat up from the desk.

"Morning Janus," Patton greeted.

"Hello, Patton," Janus responded back. He tried to smile, but Patton could feel it was off.

"Something happened, didn't it?" Patton said, his own smile dropping.

Janus sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He slowly nodded his head. Patton jumped up from his seat and hurried over to him.

"Is Roman okay? Is he dead? Did they- did he-"

"I don't know," Janus responded. Patton gripped onto his shirt to stabilize himself. Janus put comforting hands on his shoulders as Patton stared into his eyes. 

"He's- he's all I have left. Please-" Patton rested his head against Janus's shoulder. 

Janus patted Patton's shoulder. "I know. If I could've rescued both of you that day, I would have but… but they were too close. They would've captured all of you, and I couldn't… I couldn't let that happen."

"I know. You told me," Patton spat out. He pushed off of Janus's clothes, and he set his jaw. 

Janus sighed and adjusted his shirt. He watched as Patton slouched against his desk and scribbled something onto the papers. Janus pursed his lips.

"I promised you we were going to get Roman back, and I am a man of my word," Janus responded.

"I know," Patton repeated without looking up.

"I'll leave you be for now," Janus said. He waited in the doorway for a moment before he continued, "Get some breakfast, Patton. We're going to need you after the next mission."

Patton's head snapped up. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, we're breaking someone out," Janus responded.

Patton's heart pounded. Was it really happening? Were they getting Roman out? He jumped up from his seat.

"I want to help!"

"I told you before, Patton, it's too dangerous. If they capture you, they'll never let you go. We'll never reach you. You'll be- you'll be lost, and we can't lose you."

"I don't care!" Patton slammed a hand down on his desk, making Janus jump. "If it wasn't for us- if it wasn't for me, they wouldn't even have bothered Roman, but because I looked too much like Logan-"

Patton's eyes stung, and he wiped them away. Janus didn't move to comfort him. He knew this speech before. How many times had Patton screamed at him? How many times did he blame Janus for everything that happened, for all the misery in his life?

The worst part was, it _was_ Janus's fault from the beginning. Now all he could do was try to make things right.

"I know," Janus replied at last, "but trust me, Patton, we're going to fix this."

Patton sighed. He nodded his head, the same words that Janus always told him but never followed through with lingering between them. Janus closed the door, and Patton let out a long breath.

How long was he supposed to wait here like a useless child?

Patton wasn't sure how long he waited there at his desk, but he shook his disappointment from his body and figured it was time to start doing his job. He exited his room and out into the well-lit hallways of the warehouse.

There were people here who depended on him. He had a purpose. He just had to remember the purpose he wanted wasn't one he was meant to have.

"Good morning, Patton," Puteri's voice called out behind him. Patton turned, and Puteri wrapped him into a hug. She rubbed his back in that soothing motherly way Patton loved. For a moment, all they did was hold each other.

"Are you doing okay?" Patton asked, knowing he could feel the ache in her chest.

"I'm managing," Puteri responded, knowing the same thing.

Patton nodded his head. They eventually let go, Patton's hands sliding away first to signal he wanted to be released, and Puteri following through. Her gentle brown eyes smiled down at him, and they walked side by side down to the cafeteria.

"Any news on Roman?" Puteri asked.

"No, but Da-" Patton corrected himself- “but Janus is going back into the organization to get someone. He won't say who though."

"Smart," Puteri responded, "after Noelle's betrayal."

Patton folded his hands into fists. He clenched his teeth and nodded his head. "If I ever see her again-"

"You won't," Puteri responded. Her sharp tone convinced Patton it was a fact more than a promise. 

They reached the food and met Damia with a newspaper. She flashed it in her mother's face.

"Did you see the news?" Damia asked.

Puteri pushed the paper back, "I can't see anything, sweetheart."

"They're launching an investigation against IODNA," Damia chirped. She clutched the paper against her chest. "Apparently there have been sources sighting unethical human experimentation, and they have a witness to testify."

"It'll never stick," Puteri said. Damia's face fell. She chewed on her lip.

"Come on, mom. Let me have a little hope that it'll stick this time."

"If it didn't stick before, it won't stick now. I tried to blow the whistle years ago, and they brushed me off," Puteri mumbled.

Damia sighed and put her hands on her hips. She huffed and walked away. Patton watched her leave and turned his gaze back to Puteri.

"When did you try to expose IDONA?" he asked.

Puteri sighed and responded, "when I first got out of the institute, I tried to tell them about me and Roman. Apparently, though, I went to the wrong person. The institute was in their pocket making sure any claims didn't make it to court. They… didn't threaten me, but they did promise if I perused it, I wouldn't be alive to see the verdict."

Patton swallowed hard. He nodded his head in understanding, and he took a deep breath in and out.

"Well, I'm glad you're still here," Patton responded.

Puteri put her arm around him and gave him a side hug. She smiled and nodded her head.

"Thank you, Patton. Now, let's get some breakfast into you. You look famished."

* * *

Soft feet padded down the dark alley. They leaped off the ground and into a garbage can. Pickings were starting to get slim, but hopefully soon they wouldn’t have to hide like this.

Golden eyes locked onto a half-eaten fish dinner, and they snatched it before any rats could invade their space again. They dragged it down to the shore and dined in peace. The harbor waves lapped at the shore and carried the spoils of their meal into the dark depths of the ocean. 

Their ears twitched as a plane flew overhead. They glanced up at the clear night sky and sniffed the air.

Soon.

Footsteps in the sand behind them caught their attention. They turned their head, and their golden eyes narrowed on the person approaching. The person lifted up their shirt sleeve, revealing a snake tattoo winding up their arm.

Fur shifted, bones moved, and the once cat elongated into a human shape. Golden slitted eyes remained, and they stared at their target in annoyance. 

“You’re fucking late,” the once cat hissed.

A small chuckle mixed with the approaching footsteps, and the stranger stood beside them to stare out into the harbor’s waters.

“Hello, Hobo,” the person said.

“JD.”

“Any news?”

Hobo shook their head. They passed a plastic card to JD and answered, “That place is still locked up tight. Every time I get down into the isolation area, they catch me. I think they’re starting to look for my cat form too now.”

“That’s unfortunate. You were our best spy.”

“Hey, it’s not like I can change my appearance whenever I want.”

“Touche.”

“But J, you’re gonna have to start being careful too.” Hobo’s eyes glanced out the corner of their sockets. “If they’re on to me at that place, they’re watching me right now. They could follow you, and-”

“They’ll never catch me.”

Hobo studied JD and let out a long sigh. They scratched the fur still left on their face and bit their lip with their sharp teeth.

“It’s not you I’m worried about.”

“I know exactly who you’re worried about,” JD responded. He turned his head and glared at Hobo, who glared right back. “We’re going to get them all, Hobo, I promise.”

“That’s what you told me three years ago, and where did that get us, huh? Your so-called wild card failed.”

“So, maybe my plan with Virgil didn’t work out the way I thought it would,” JD said with a shrug. “I can’t say I didn’t try.”

Hobo sighed, and they took their hat off to scratch their head. The scruffy hair beneath it stuck up in all different directions like they never saw a brush in their life.

“I have to get him out,” JD said to the water. “He’s going to go nuts if I don’t.”

Hobo raised a brow as a grin slid on their face. “That bad, huh? Whatever happened to not falling in love with people?”

“I’m not in love with Patton.” JD snapped. He sighed and rubbed his neck. “I just feel like I owe everything to him. It’s my fault that Logan and Roman got taken, and I-”

“Okay, Roman I can see, but not Logan. You were a kid. You can’t keep beating yourself up over Logan.”

“I can and I will.”

Hobo sighed. They shoved their hat back over their ears and sniffed the air. A sharp hiss pulled from their throat.

“We’re not alone.”

JD put his hands in his pockets and nodded. As he walked away, he said over his shoulder. “And just as sure as Rome is falling-”

“I will rise again.” Hobo finished. They slid back into their cat appearance and shook their black and brown fur. Golden eyes watched as JD walked away, and they shuffled their paws in the dirt. Whoever was following them had a familiar scent. They couldn’t place it, but they definitely smelled the person before.

Hobo stalked down the riverfront and kept their eyes open for any strange activity. A shadow shifted to their left, and they let out a sharp hiss. The shadow, it appeared, turned out to be nothing but a rat hiding in the dumpsters. Hobo flicked their tail in annoyance. All this paranoia over a dirty rat.

Hobo walked down the rest of the harbor, their footprints the only evidence they were there. If they would’ve stuck around a little longer, they would’ve seen the person hiding behind the cans, keeping an eye out.

For Hobo was a cat who had now become the mouse.

* * *

Logan was not looking forward to this.

They chewed on their lip as the scientists led them to the same room Virgil was in before. They watched the door open, and they caught Virgil’s eyes once again. Virgil was strapped down to the same chair, and Logan wondered if Virgil was released or if he was stuck that way all night. They wouldn’t put it past these people to-

The scientists shoved Logan in, and they collapsed onto their hands and knees. The door slammed closed behind them. Logan stood and rubbed the pain away from their bare hands.

“Sup?” Virgil greeted in a very unwelcoming tone.

Logan let out a long sigh and rubbed their neck. “Are you injured?”

Virgil snuffed through his nose. “They didn’t do that _thing_ to me again if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Logan flinched as the memories from yesterday flooded back to them like a nightmare. They swallowed hard, and they muttered a small, “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, well,” Virgil shrugged the best he could. “Thanks, I guess.”

“Were you there all night?”

"No. I went back to my room.”

Logan breathed a sigh of relief.

Virgil continued, “Not much more comfortable there though. I can’t sleep with that Emile guy watching me the whole time.”

Logan’s eye twitched at the mention of Emile. They opened their mouth to speak, but they closed it a moment later and gathered their thoughts. “Can he see you?”

“No, he has this stupid blindfold thing on, but it’s still creepy.”

Logan breathed another sigh of relief. They took a seat on the floor and folded their fingers. Virgil watched with suspended interest, and Logan tried to maintain eye contact.

“Can I ask you questions?” Virgil asked.

“You can.”

“Who are you?”

“My name is Logan-”

“No shit, Sherlock.”

“-and I’m a prisoner at IODNA. They’ve been containing me here since I was six years of age, the only exception being when I escaped a year ago for six months.”

Virgil sucked in a long breath through his nose. He tapped his fingers on the chair's arm and looked away. Logan wondered if their tone was too harsh or they made Virgil uncomfortable.

“I just… I guess I can’t believe it, you know? I worked at this place for two years as a medical assistant, then they fired me for no reason, then a year later, I’m thrown back in here and held captive because they found out I can draw the future. What gives? What is this place? I thought- I thought I was helping people, but-” a snort- “fuck me for trying, am I right?”

Logan watched Virgil blink rapidly, and they answered, “No, I will not fuck you for trying. I’m not sexually aroused by, you and-”

“Okay, the first thing you need to understand is the phrase “rhetorical question” and second,” Virgil’s tone shifted to something softer, “I’m sorry, you know, that you were like, taken as a kid and put into a place like this. It must’ve sucked.”

Logan sighed and nodded. "It did indeed "suck" as you put it."

"Oh, so you know what "suck" means but you take fuck literally." Virgil snorted." You're a laugh and a half."

"That's because you taught me what suck meant."

Virgil's mirth disappeared again, and he eyed Logan wearily. His mouth formed a question, but he didn’t voice it. After a slight pause, he tried again. “How did we meet?”

Logan hesitated. Should they tell him? If they told him, would Virgil be able to remember? Maybe… maybe they could unlock the memories vocally. Maybe Logan telling him what happened-

“It’s fine, though, if you don’t wanna like answer or anything. I just… sorry, it’s dumb-”

“There are no dumb questions, Virgil, and you deserve to know everything.” Logan hesitated. “I… you met me when you delivered food to me. You said you were not supposed to be down here, and they mistook you as one of the new scientists.”

Virgil hummed. He furrowed his brows and sighed. “Why don’t I remember any of this?”

“I took your memories away from you.”

“Why?” 

“So you would not come looking for me.”

“Can you… you can’t put them back, can you? That’s why we’re both here. You’re supposed to-” Virgil swallowed- “I’m your lab rat.”

“Believe me, Virgil, if I could have it any other way, I would accept it within my next heartbeat.”

Virgil shrugged. “Nah, it’s cool. It’s cool. I get it. Uh, so how do you plan on, you know, doing the thing?”

Logan looked down at his bare hands. He flexed and unflexed them, his eyebrows knitted in concentration. “I don’t know.”

“Great. Have you tried to before?”

“Yes.”

“So, what have you tried?”

“I’ve tried putting my fingers on the victim’s temple like how I extract them. I’ve tried holding their hand and willing the memories back into their mind. I’ve tried using visual triggers such as books associated with the memory.” Logan sighed. “I cannot fathom how else I’m supposed to release these memories back into an individual.”

Virgil blew air through his lips. “Well, I guess… damn this is going to take a while, isn’t it?”

“I’m afraid so.”

Virgil nibbled on his lip. He adjusted his sitting position the best he could with his arms and feet tied down and glanced at the floor. For a moment, he didn’t recognize his reflection. He looked so weird without his eye makeup and giant hoodie.

“Well, I guess you better get started then,” Virgil said as he glanced back up at Logan. “Do what you gotta I guess.”

“Are you sure I have consent to touch you?”

“Just… ask first, okay? Let me know what you’re doing, and if I say stop-”

“Of course. I do not want to cross any more boundaries than I already have.”

“Yeah, uh, thanks I guess.”

Logan stood from their position on the floor and walked over toward Virgil. They rubbed their hands together, feeling the friction of their own skin. Their eyes glanced up into Virgil’s own. They could see Virgil’s fear even if Virgil was doing a pretty good job hiding it.

“Does it hurt?” Virgil asked and stilled Logan’s steps. “You know, taking the memories?”

“I know the victim feels disoriented and sluggish for the next day.”

“Oh. Huh, I guess I kinda felt like that a year or so ago. How long ago have you been here again?”

Logan smiled and shook their head. They sighed and swallowed hard. “I need a memory to try and focus on. If you could have any memory of me back, what would it be?”

Virgil thought for a moment. He tapped his finger on the chair. “Um, how about… how about the day we met. Can you shoot for that one?”

“I could try.” Logan kneeled in front of Virgil until they were at eye level. Virgil gave a slight nod of his head, and Logan put their hands on Virgil’s own. “If I miraculously succeed and this hurts you at any point, let me know.”

Virgil gave a nod.

Logan put their fingertips to Virgil’s temple. They swallowed hard and focused. Focused on that first day. Focused on the memory of Virgil standing at their door, the tray holding a stale sandwich and a water bottle, those shifting eyes, that white lab coat that made him look like a ghost-

Virgil squeezed his eyes shut and let out a sharp hiss. Logan’s fingers flew off Virgil’s temple, and they monitored Virgil’s expression.

“Why’d you stop?” Virgil asked.

“You looked like you were in pain. I thought I hurt you.”

Virgil stared down at the floor, his eyebrows knit together. “You didn’t… hurt me. I felt this weird tingle... like my brain went numb.”

“Do you remember anything?”

Virgil stayed silent for a moment. Logan watched him for a reaction, their heart starting to pick up speed as time passed. Did they do it? Did Virgil remember something? They swallowed their dry throat and tried to recall the breathing exercises Virgil taught them.

“I-” Virgil let out a long sigh, “_Something_ happened. I just don’t know what.”

For a moment, Logan feared they did even more damage to Virgil’s memory. They rubbed the back of their neck, and they looked away.

“You read Shakespeare?”

Logan gasped. They snapped their head to Virgil’s face, and Virgil flinched. Their lips whispered, “What?”

“Sorry, I didn’t-”

“No, what did you say?”

Virgil creased his brow, and he opened and closed his mouth twice. “You… you read Shakespeare. I think… Hamlet. You were reading Hamlet.”

“I did!” Logan cried. They grabbed their hair with their fists. “I was reading Hamlet when you entered my room.”

“Yeah. Yeah! And there was this-” Virgil squeezed his eyes shut. He swallowed the low groan back down his throat. Logan waited for Virgil to catch his bearings. “The book was red and old.”

“It was.” Logan could feel tears pricking their eyes. “What else do you remember?”

Virgil thought harder. The vein on his temple started to bulge, and Logan sucked in a sharp breath. Sweat started forming on Virgil’s brow. He squeezed the chair so hard his fingers turned white.

“Virgil, stop.”

Virgil’s body started to shake. “No, I’m getting something-”

“Virgil! Please, don’t hurt yourself.”

The pupils on Virgil’s eyes dilated until the whole iris was swallowed. “I can almost-”

“VIRGIL!”

Logan grabbed Virgil’s shoulders and squeezed. Virgil jolted at the sudden motion, and he panted heavily. His eyes snapped up in Logan’s direction, and his pupil retracted to normal size. 

“Why did you stop me?” Virgil asked.

“I-” Logan’s throat closed. They swallowed hard and tried again, “You- Do you know what just happened?”

“I was talking to you. There was,” Virgil paused. “There was this voice calling to me. It sounded just like you. I heard… you asked if I was new. I could hear you in my head.”

Logan blinked back their tears. They sat on their heels and covered their mouth with their hand.

“I didn’t say anything, Virgil.”

“No, I mean in my memories. You were walking toward me, and I,” Virgil glanced down at Logan’s hands and swallowed. “You were wearing those stupid brown gloves.”

“I was.”

“What, were they afraid you’d erase the whole facility’s memories or something?”

“Yes.”

Virgil grew quiet. He rested his head against the chair and stared at the ceiling. “Head… I’m starting to get a headache.”

“I’m done.”

Virgil moved his eyes toward Logan. “Hmm?”

“I’m not- I’m not going to bring back any more.”

A suffocating silence hung between them. Virgil didn’t know how much time passed, but he did know that Logan refused to look at him. Was he really that scary? Did Logan think they hurt him that badly? What happened?

The door to the room opened, and Logan didn’t acknowledge it. Virgil, however, caught Dr. William standing in the doorway. The so called doctor raised his hands and started to slowly clap.

“Well done, Logan. I knew you could do it,” Dr. William said in his too smooth voice. He stepped inside the room. Logan still didn’t acknowledge his presence. He put a hand on Logan’s shoulder and leaned down. “But why did you stop?”

Logan didn’t answer.

Dr. William sighed, and he stood up straight. Virgil glared at the head scientist, wishing he could get out of this stupid chair and choke him. 

“He looks fine to me,” Dr. William said to no one. He stalked toward Virgil. Virgil pressed his back into the chair, and he swallowed hard. Only then did Logan break from their trance and look up. Too late. Dr. William grabbed Virgil’s chin and tilted it up. He studied Virgil’s face with an indifferent expression. Virgil clenched his jaw and narrowed his eyes.

“No abnormalities,” Dr. William mumbled. “Patient seems to be fine. What all did you remember, boy?”

“Eat a dick,” Virgil growled.

Dr. William clicked his tongue. “Now, Virgil, what did I say about talking to me like that?”

“You know what? I don’t care. I’m not going to bow to you and your spooky mind tricks. You got what you wanted. Logan made me remember, so-”

“So?”

“So fuck off.”

Dr. William let go of Virgil’s jaw. He took a step back, his eyes locked on Virgil the whole time. His face twisted into an ugly grimace, and he wrinkled his nose.

“Oh, Virgil, and here I thought you would be as obedient as you were when I first met you.” Dr. William turned and walked toward Logan. He squatted on the balls of his feet to Logan’s eye level. Virgil craned his neck.

“Hey, hey stop! Don’t touch him.”

Logan backed up, but Dr. William grabbed them by the neck and pulled them forward. He kept eye contact with Logan as he spoke to Virgil, “You know, there’s more than one way to get people to listen when they don’t want to.”

Virgil’s blood ran cold. “No! Don’t-”

Logan’s scream cut off Virgil’s voice. Virgil strained against his restraints. He screamed for Dr. William to stop, begged him to leave Logan alone, bartered for his own safety to stop Logan’s pain. In the end, Logan collapsed onto the floor, their ears red from bleeding, their eyes squeezed shut as tears soaked their skin.

Dr. William stepped over Logan’s curled up body and wiped his hands on his lab coat. He ordered the other guards at the door, “Escort Logan back to his room. I think he’s done.”

Virgil watched in horror as Logan was picked up bridal style and carried out of the room. Dr. William stole one last glance at Virgil before he slammed the door closed, leaving Virgil alone and stuck with the sound of Logan’s scream vibrating through his brain.

* * *

_”Who are you?”_

_“Oh, uh, I’m sorry. I think I have the wrong room-”_

_“What room are you looking for?”_

_“204?”_

_“You are correct. However, I don’t think I’ve met you before. Are you new?”_

_“Uh, yeah, kind of. They mistook me for someone else. Um… I have your lunch? I guess if you could call it that.”_

_“Oh, thank you.”_

_“Damn, bitch, you eat like this?”_

_“I’m unsure of what you are talking about.”_

_“Uh, nevermind. Who are you anyway?”_

_“Oh, my name is Logan Shea. And who do I have the privilege of speaking to.”_

_“Um, my name is Virgil Cho.”_

_“Salutations, Dr. Cho.”_

_“No, no, just Virgil. I’m not a doctor yet.”_

_“Oh? Are you studying to be one?”_

_“Not really. I’m just an assistant, you know?”_

_“I don’t.”_

_“Uh, okay then. Fine, Uh, here’s your stale sandwich and water I guess. Wait, is that Shakesphere?”_

_“Oh, it is. I’m reading Hamlet at the moment. Shakespeare wrote some rather intriguing dramas that center around tragedy.”_

_“Well with this lunch, I guess you’d know all about tragedy, wouldn’t you.”_

_“Are you comparing my food to Hamlet?”_

_“Um, yeah, forget I said anything.”_

_“I’d rather not.”_

_“Fine then.”_

_“Thank you, Virgil. It was nice to meet you.”_

_“Yeah, uh, you too, Logan. Maybe we’ll see each other again sometime.”_

_“I’d like that.”_


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Come with me and you'll be  
In a world of pure imagination  
Take a look and you'll see  
Into your imagination  
We'll begin with a spin  
Traveling in the world of my creation  
What we'll see will defy explanation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gyZLBDbR10g
> 
> I've waited... so long for this...
> 
> Chapter warnings: dream-reality confusion, zalgo text, psychological torture, paralysis, food discussions, inability to breathe, physical torture, gore, blood, imprisonment, physical restraints, disturbing imagery, inability to talk, choking, discussions of mortality, spiders, being buried alive, wrist bleeding mention, drowning mention, starvation mention, near character death implication, physical/mental abuse discussion, death threats, manipulation, the M in mature means chapter 5 (I hope I didn’t miss any)  
Word Count: 4,681

_Come with m̸e̷  
_

_And you’ll b̸e̷_

_In a w̵̱̋̆́ỗ̸͕͈r̷̠͆͗͊l̵̡̥̱̏͝d̸̢̡̛̞̆̇ ̶͚̙͗͘͝ of_

_p̵̱̋ű̴̝r̵̰͐e̴̮̓ ̵̥̄i̴̜̿m̸̥̈́a̵̳̾g̶̱̍i̷͎͑n̵̙͘a̴͙̽t̷̞̋i̵̡͌ơ̸͈n̶̳͘ ̷̭̆_

* * *

The sky never looked so blue. It wiggled and waved like a large flag in a constant breeze. The clouds puffed up like pink cotton candy and drifted across the sky. If the wind blew just right, the sweet smell of pure sugar floated over the land. You could taste it if you opened your mouth. The sound of birds chirped through the air, but no birds flew. The sun, a comfortable warm sun that accompanied the breeze, floated at high noon. If you smiled at it, it would politely smile back.

Below the sky grew rows and rows of flowers. Red, orange, yellow, green, blue, purple, and every color in between. Some you could pick and place in your hair, and they would never wilt. Some you could drink from like a teacup. Some would talk to you for hours if you asked its favorite type of weather. Some changed their smell so you could smell your favorite scent.

Laying in the middle of the field of flowers was a boy. No, not a boy, he was much older than that now. He laid there with his eyes closed, his face turned toward the sun, and his soft smile shining just as bright. He had one arm lazily strung over his white turtleneck. No sweat formed on his body despite the warm rays. His short brown hair blew in the gentle breeze. Despite being outside, he had no shoes on.

He blinked awake milk chocolate brown eyes. He sat up and stretched his arms over his head. The breeze blew his hair out of his face. He lazily glanced around the clearing.

Traveling in the grass (that tasted and felt much more like green jello than grass) was another boy. No, not a boy, he was much older than that now. He wore the same white turtleneck and pants with no shoes as the first. His short, caramel-colored hair blew in the gentle breeze, and his green eyes rivaled the grass.

Within the blink of an eye, the second one stood in front of the first.

“Did you have a nice nap?” he asked.

“I always do.”

The second smiled, and he took the first boy’s hand. The two of them walked hand and hand through the flowers, careful not to step on a single one. The flowers would scream if they did.

“Is it time for tea already?” the first one asked.

“It’s always time for tea.”

A glass table appeared in the middle of the field. Its legs wove around like clear vines. The two chairs that sat underneath it looked innocent enough with their green seat cushions and matching vine-covered legs. 

The first one sat down on his chair. His body locked up, and he pressed his back against the backrest. His wrists pinned themselves to the armrests as his feet stuck to the legs of the chair, and he adjusted himself until he was slightly more comfortable, though “comfortable” wasn’t exactly right either. 

The second boy sat across from him. He leaned against the table, his face cradled by his palms. He watched the first like he was an obsession. A toy. Something to play with and break.

Two teacups appeared out of thin air. They filled themselves up with a small rain cloud, and lightning sparked to heat the tea. A spoon appeared and mixed two globs of honey in each cup. It tapped itself on the side of each cup before disappearing into a puff of smoke.

The teacups floated into the air and allowed both of them to take a drink. Only one did.

“How long?” the first asked.

“I have one hour to break you, as usual,” the second answered.

The first let a low sigh escape his lips, and a small cloud of rain formed over his head. He blew it away, and it disappeared into the cotton candy clouds above. He asked, “Does it hurt?”

“Not this time.”

The first boy frowned. “Tell me the truth.”

“I like the pain. It’s a nice punishment. Besides, it helps me know what’s real and what’s not real.”

“Do you think this is real?”

The second hummed in thought. His eyes glanced up at the sky, and he tilted his head to the side in quiet contemplation. At last, he answered, “It’s not.”

“You're right.”

“You’re real though, right? You’re here with me this time?”

“I’m right here, I promise.”

“Then I guess it’s time to start the game.”

“Alright, what do you want me to tell you?”

The second thought, and he tapped his foot on the ground twice. He asked at last, “What’s your name?”

“That’s it?”

The second repeated, “What is your name?”

The first tilted his head to the side. He flexed his hands, which still remained pinned to the chair, and answered, “I can’t tell you.”

The second smiled, their grin sharpened like knives. “You can’t or you won’t?”

“I can’t. The fae might be listening.”

“They are indeed.” The second responded. He took a sip of the tea in front of him. “Take a drink.”

“No thank you.”

The second frowned at that. “Are you refusing my gift to you?”

“No, of course not. I’m just not thirsty right now.”

“It tastes like crofters jam. It’s your favorite, isn’t it?”

“It is.”

“Then take a drink.”

The first stared at the tea in front of him. It bubbled and sputtered, begging him to not take a drink. If he looked hard enough, he could see a skull and crossbones.

The sky never looked so gray. It tossed and turned like the ocean stuck in a storm. The clouds twisted and warped, going black as the night, and lightning connected them. They crowded together and threatened the sky with rain. The wind soured to milk, and if you opened your mouth, you'd gag on the taste of rotting fish. Gone was the warm sun. The only thing stopping the storm from unleashing its fury was a single word.

“T̸a̶k̶e̶ ̸a̶ ̵d̷r̸i̸n̴k̴,” the second demanded.

The first shook his head.

The second stood and slammed his too long six-fingered hands on the table. Their eyes sharpened like their teeth, and they flipped the table. Tea spilled.

“T̸a̸k̷e̵ ̶a̵ ̸d̶r̷i̸n̷k̷ ̴t̵a̸k̴e̶ ̴a̷ ̸d̴r̸i̶n̴k̵ ̴t̵a̶k̶e̶ ̴a̸ ̵d̸r̵i̵n̶k̷ ̴t̴a̶k̸e̸ ̶a̸ ̵d̸r̷i̶n̵k̸ ̵t̶a̶k̸e̵ ̵a̴ ̸d̴r̴i̵n̵k̵ ̷t̵a̸k̸e̵ ̶a̵ ̸d̶r̶i̵n̸k̶ ̵t̶a̷k̸e̴ ̶a̴ ̶d̸r̷i̸n̸k̷-”

Falling.

He was falling.

The chair kept him glued to its cushion. The second person vanished. Only the first remained. He could hear its taunting voice echoing in the dark. It called to him like a lost friend, and he wished he could reach out and touch it. 

The darkness swallowed him whole. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t see. He couldn’t think.

His heart kept its steady beat. Soon. Soon it would be over.

He only had forty-five minutes left.

* * *

_Take a l̵o̶o̶k̴_

_And you’ll s̶e̴e̴_

_Into_

_m̵͕̎m̷̺̾m̴̞̈́m̶̰͊m̵̨̀m̸͈͌ ̷̛̭y̴̜̽ö̵̤́u̸͈͂r̵̐ͅ ̵̺̄ḯ̵͜m̷͚͐ả̴̻g̴̥͗i̶͚̒n̸̪̉ả̶̳ẗ̸͈́i̴̛̬ō̶̞n̴̰͘_

* * *

The sky never looked so blue. It wiggled and waved like the ocean when a storm approached. The clouds puffed up like pink cotton candy and drifted across the sky. If the wind blew just right, the sour smell of milk choked you, and if you opened your mouth, you'd gag on the taste of rotting fish. The sound of birds chirped through the air, but no birds flew. The sun heated the breeze and floated at high noon. If you smiled at it, it would only stare at you.

A hill raised from the middle of a field. A moat of blue water, bluer than the sky, circled around it. If you looked into the water, something with no face stared back. On top of the hill stretched a tower made of stone. It had no door. It did have one window, but the window was so high no one could possibly reach it. It rose high, high, higher yet. Higher than the tallest tree. Higher than the highest bird. Higher than the clouds.

Inside the tower was a boy. No, not a boy, he was much older than that now. He sat on his knees on a rain-soaked floor. Moss cradled the windows and spread itself between the cracks. Chains kept his ankles pinned to the floor, and his hands were tied behind his back. A long chain ran from his neck onto the floor below. Why he didn’t know. It wasn’t like he could go anywhere anyway. His tongue tasted like cotton, and he couldn’t open his mouth. In fact, if he had to guess, it was sewn shut this time. 

He blinked, and a second boy appeared. No, not a boy, he was much older than that now. He wore a long, dark dress, its slit reaching up to his mid-thigh. His caramel-colored hair curled around his ears, and peach fuzz grew on his lips. His eyes were sunken in, a purple shade starting to grow underneath it like pillows. His boots clomped across the floor as he stood in front of the first one.

“A tower? Really? I thought you were more creative than that.”

The first one couldn’t answer.

The second one leaned down and gently cupped the first one’s cheeks in his hands. He ran a thumb over the first one’s lips, stroking the thick strands of string that closed his mouth off, and furrowed his brow into a pitying look. He wiped a stray tear from the first one’s eye.

“Why is your mouth sewn closed? I thought I was the kinky one."

The first one couldn’t answer.

The second one stood, his fingers trailing along the hair of the first one. The first one leaned into his touch as long as he could. He couldn’t turn to see where the second one walked off to. He could only listen. The sound of boots paced back and forth. The sound of drawers opened. The sound of harsh sighs and whispered curses filled the gaps.

“You're really going to make me punish you, aren't you?”

The first one couldn’t answer.

The last drawer closed, and the second one’s footsteps drew near. He circled around the first. The first followed with his eyes the best he could. The second stopped in front of him and leaned down once again.

“I’m going to rip them out.”

The first one couldn’t argue.

“I need to know.”

The first one swallowed hard.

“I need to know your name.”

The first one could only watch in horror.

Too long fingers plucked at the end string.

The first one swallowed a whimper. Tears rose to his eyes once again.

Fingernails long and sharp weaseled their way between the first’s lips and the string. The first one thrashed to back away. The second one grabbed the chain around his neck and held him still.

“This hurts me a lot more than it hurts you.”

The first one could not argue.

“If you would just give in.”

The first one swallowed hard.

"Lose the game."

The first one could only watch in horror. 

String by string, the second pulled the thread from the first one’s lips. Blood poured down face and fingers. It pooled on the ground and mixed with the rain and tears puddling on the floor. String. By. String. By. Painful. String. 

“If you give in, the game is over and we can go home. Wouldn't that be nice? It's better than this… this nightmare, right? This is a nightmare, right? I'm not, I'm not actually hurting you, right?"

For a moment, the second stopped. He blinked his eyes rapidly to keep tears at bay. The first, taking pity, shook his head no to the best of his ability

"No, it's not real? It's not real. You're here, but this isn't real."

The first nodded.

The second one smiled that too-wide smile and tilted his head to the side as he finished his work.

“Now, see? That wasn’t too bad, was it?”

The first one whimpered through his teeth.

The second stood and pulled the chain with him. The first choked as the shackle around his neck pulled him up. With his feet chained the way they were, he couldn’t properly stand to relieve the pressure on his neck. He couldn’t breathe. His lips tingled from pain and lack of oxygen.

“What’s your name?” the second asked.

The first one opened his lips to answer but didn’t.

“What’s your name?” the second one demanded with a shake.

The first one smiled a bloody smile.

“W̵h̴a̶t̵'̸s̶ ̶y̷o̴u̴r̷ ̶n̸a̴m̷e̵ ̷w̴h̶a̴t̵'̶s̸ ̸y̶o̴u̴r̷ ̷n̴a̴m̸e̴ ̴w̵h̷a̵t̶'̴s̷ ̶y̶o̸u̴r̶ ̸n̶a̴m̵e̸ ̷w̷h̵a̷t̴'̸s̵ ̸y̸o̴u̷r̴ ̷n̴a̶m̵e̸ ̸w̴h̴a̷t̷'̴s̵ ̴y̶o̸u̸r̷ ̸n̵a̵m̴e̴-”

The first one spat blood on the other’s face.

With a frustrated yell, the second threw the first backward. With no way to catch himself, the first fell backward. His wrists flailed behind his back. His ankles snapped. He screamed in surprise.

Falling.

He was falling. The darkness swallowed him whole. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t see. He couldn’t think.

His heart kept its steady beat. Soon. Soon it would be over.

He only had thirty minutes left.

* * *

_We’ll ̷b̷e̶g̵i̴n̶_

_With a s̵p̷i̵n̶_

_Traveling in the w̷o̸r̵l̴d̵ of_

_M̸͖͋Ẏ̷̭ ̶̣̕C̶̨̈R̷͖̍Ẹ̴́Ȁ̷̮Ṱ̶͘Ȉ̸͇O̸̬̿N̵̼̆_

* * *

The sky never looked so green. It wiggled and waved like jello when someone poked it. There were no clouds, only puffs of dandelions floating in the breeze. If the wind blew just right, the smell of rotting flesh hung in the air, and you could hear their whispers of the dead beyond the grave. Taunting. Bargaining. Inviting. No birds chirped except for the vultures crying out from their dance in the sky. The sun, a relentless burning inferno, floated at high noon. If you smiled at it, it would scowl at you.

For as long as the eye could see, the grass was dead, poisoned by the very contents of its patrons down below. Giant rocks- no, not rocks- tombstones marked the land. Some had clear names with clever little rhymes written on them. Some were cracked in half. Some were so worn from the weather that their words made no sense, forgotten like the people laying down below them.

A hole dug its way into the middle of the cemetery. Deep, deep, so deep, that if you fell in you’d surely become its permanent occupant. In fact, there was a casket waiting at the bottom. Its purple silk was decorated with black widow spiders. A white pillow made from webbing would cradle the head of its patron. 

Tied up in the casket was a boy. No, not a boy, he was much older than that now. He thrashed like a wiggling worm, making the spiders on the silk dance around. His hands were tied together on his stomach in their white web, as were his arms, hips, legs, and ankles. A white cloth gagged him and stopped him from calling for help. No longer did his heart beat slow. He whined and begged behind the gag in his mouth, his tongue wrapped up in knots.

Towering over the hole grinning down at him like a demon was a second boy. No, not a boy, he was much older than that now. Even though his face was covered in shadows, his green eyes glowed like toxic waste. A long black cape floated around them like clouds of smoke. He put his hands behind his back and tilted his head to the side.

“Well, well, well, looks like you thought yourself in quite the situation this time, didn’t you?” the second one taunted.

The first one squirmed like a fly caught in a spider’s web.

“All this because you won’t tell me your name.” The second clicked his tongue. “That’s all you’d have to do, you know. Just tell me who you are.”

The first said something, but the cotton woven around his mouth stopped him.

The second waited.

The first couldn’t break free.

With a sigh, the second walked away from the hole. The first begged for him to come back, but his words never made it past his lips.

The spiders came to life. They crawled over his white clothes, over his bare hands, over his squeezed shut eyes. He flailed as hard as he could. The spiders didn’t care. They wove the ties around his ankles tighter, then his knees, then his thighs. Soon, he couldn’t move his legs at all. They worked their way up to his torso, swallowed his arms and hands, and left him a mummy with an exposed face.

The second one returned and stared down over the hole. He snapped his fingers, and the white cloth disappeared from the first one’s lips.

“Please,” the first one begged. He shook his head to free himself of the spider traveling up his cheek. “Please let me out of here.”

“You know I can’t do that,” the second said, his voice melancholy. “Only you can do that.”

“I can’t-”

“Yes, you can. I only need one little word.”

“You told me never to-”

“Forget what I said!” the second yelled. He stomped his foot on the ground. “It’s been too long. The game’s over. Tell me your name!”

For a moment, the first considered it. However, a voice of reason wove its way through the web of lies showering down on him, and he swallowed his fear.

“I can’t.”

“Then your tombstone will be nameless.”

The second threw in a shovel full of dirt. It hit the first one’s face and scattered. The first cried out as dirt lodged itself in his eyes, up his nose, in his mouth. He spit the intruders out the best he could. He shook his head. The dirt blinded him.

Another shovel full of dirt spilled across the casket. And another. And another. Soon, the dirt was deep enough to hug his entire body. The first could hear between each throw, the teasing voice repeating over and over.

“It will all be over soon.”

Another throw.

“It will all be over soon.”

“I̷t̷ ̴w̶i̵l̸l̵ ̴a̸l̷l̵ ̶b̷e̴ ̸o̵v̴e̴r̶ ̵s̵o̴o̵n̷ ̷i̶t̶ ̸w̶i̵l̶l̴ ̵a̸l̷l̴ ̷b̵e̶ ̶o̷v̶e̸r̶ ̴s̷o̶o̸n̶ ̷i̸t̸ ̴w̴i̸l̴l̵ ̵a̶l̵l̴ ̸b̶e̸ ̷o̵v̶e̵r̵ ̴s̸o̷o̸n̷-”

The last throw plunged him into total darkness. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t see. He couldn’t think.

His heart kept its steady beat. Soon. Soon it would be over.

He only had fifteen minutes left.

* * *

_What we’ll s̷e̸e̷_

_Will d̴e̸f̴y̷ ̴_

_Ẹ̶͔̤̩̥͙͑͆̇̊͛̃é̶̡͎̮͍̯͈̯͙̪̞̻͙̠̹̃̊͆̂̃̃̋́̕͠͝͠ͅͅe̵̡̡̹͔͔͉̹͇̳̼̱͙̓͋̓̆̈́̑͛ě̵̛͉͂͋̍̐̃̊̇̀͝é̶͎̋̀̍̌̈́̚ė̶̢̨̡̨̟̖̮̠̗̖̣̹̲̭̅́͘ë̷͚́͑̓̔̇̊̌͐͝͠x̵̡̡̛̖̟̮̼̘͖̘̬͇̽̈͂̓̎̽̑͂̓́̽̎̐̕̕̕p̵̡̡̡̛͕̺͖̥̪͚̟͔̱͗̈̊̿̀́͗̆̂̾̓͠ͅl̶̨̢̨̢̗̞̟̱̲̲̰͎̦̰̝̳̿̆̽̋̂͊͑̌̒ả̶̡̳̻̙̬̣̲̲̯̭̖͖͓̈́̈́̍̍̌͝͠i̷̧̢̯̖̩̟̝̹̋͋̆͌̽̇̃̀̈́͊͗͑͜ņ̶̛̛̺͍̟̳̦̲̥̠̹̾̏̈́͂͒͊̊̍̇̾̌̒̔͂̿a̷̢̧̢̫̱̮͕͇͔͙̫̺̖̒͒͜Ţ̶̍̚I̶̩̯͓͉̰̦̥̩̙͙̤͐͗͋͂̅̏̒̓̈̀̏̅͌̅̆͘͜͝Ō̴̜̤͇͖̖̭̮͎̜̦͎̤̳̠͜ͅN̶̳͍̤̞̎͂̑͋̈N̴̛̘̿̎͐̃͐̏̍̒͆͝Ṉ̷̛̻͍̳̥̜̭̩̩̂͐̐̓̆͂̎N̴̛͔̐̾̏Ņ̸̭̯̫͉̤͉̺̰͚̦̤̩͕̈́̈́̄̏͒̃͜Ń̶͍̪͖̰͖͈̣̱̟͙̞̏̋͛̑̄͆́͝ͅÑ̵̡̧̧͍̩̯̮̞͖̤͇̟̠͉̹͎̦̏͆̅̿̀̃͗̕͝͝Ṋ̴͉̼̰͙̬̋́͝Ņ̶̟̯̥̥̔̂̅͂͋͒͠N̶͔̆́̈́̀͆͐͂̽̾͛̌̅̐͂̏͝N̶̡̧̗̲̩̙̙͕͓̟͇̗͔̮̼͕͆́̎̓̍̿̕͠Ṇ̵͙͔̟̟̹͉͈̩͈̞̇͜͜N̶̠̝̗̗͉̯̻̜̰̉̈́̅́́̈́̊̌͑̏̎͊͋͗́̕N̵̡̨̻̩͍͙͎̠̞̭͙̯̣̪͕̺̉͛͑N̶̢̪̭̼̑͐̉́̌̒͊̋͐N̴̡̢̨̗͉̼̞̭̼͍̦̭̯͕͎̪͐͑́̏́̄͐̌͋̀̽̾̾͆͝ͅN̶̛̛̟̪̥͕̦̠͉̩̣̯͍̍̔͊̐͒̃̇̔̒́Ņ̶̯͊̊͂̐_

* * *

There was no sky. There were no clouds. There was no breeze. There were no sounds. There were no tastes. There was no sun.

There was darkness. And death. And hollowness. And loneliness. And the sound of a heartbeat.

There was a boy. No, not a boy, he was much older than that now. Old beyond his years. Older than he should’ve been. Older and wiser. Wiser than so many that came before him. Wiser than so many that fell for the demon’s tricks. Never did he succumb to the darkness that slowly killed a person from the inside out. Never did his thoughts choke his sanity from him. Never did he give in to the nightmares that were presented. He almost did, several times, just to get it to stop.

How long has it been? How long was he buried under the dirt as it slowly crushed his body? How long before he was dug up again, only to be thrown into the next nightmare?

He was strung up by strings until his wrists bled out.

He was drowned in a dark hole of his own thoughts.

He was choked on a theater stage.

He was thrown into a world where nothing was real and his brain dissolved.

He was starved in a deep hole with no light but the moon.

He was running.

Running from what, he didn’t know. 

He had to find the door. Time was almost up.

If he didn’t find the door-

A voice called his name from behind. It taunted him, teased him, to just let go and say his name. He ran, but he did not get far. 

A flashlight shined down on him. 

_“Can you hear me?”_

He opened his mouth to answer, but nothing came out. A shadow lingered at the edge of the light. It flashed sharp teeth.

The light turned off, enclosing him in darkness once again.

He ran.

The sound of heavy breathing snaked into his ear. He could feel its hot breath burning his skin. Goosebumps rose on his neck.

He tripped.

A flashlight shined down on him.

_”Subject 425, can you hear me?”_

“I hear you,” he yelled out. “Please, wake me up!”

The shadow creature lingered just out of sight from the light. It moved toward him like a slowly panning in movie. Its eyes- there must’ve been sixteen of them- floated forward. Its claws extended past the light and swallowed it whole.

The light turned off, enclosing him in darkness once again.

_“He’s flatlining.”_

He stood and ran again, his heart pounding. Too long. He was here too long. He couldn’t wake up.

Help, please help. Someone help. He- he needed help- he couldn't-

It grabbed his ankle. He fell onto his stomach. Strong hands pulled him backward, and his shirt rose to his armpits. He tried to kick the claws from his skin, but all it did was pull faster. He tried to grab onto something, anything, to stop himself.

_“Clear!”_

He was airborne. It threw him somewhere into the dark. He crashed into the ground and rolled. Several of his bones snapped in half, and his whole left side went numb. He couldn’t stand. He couldn’t sit up. He couldn’t move.

All he could do was stare in horror as footsteps closed in on him.

“H-help, please,” he begged. Tears rolled down his cheeks. He couldn’t hide the sob that escaped his throat. “Please, someone, wake me up.”

The footsteps were closer. Closing in like a tiger stalking its prey. They stopped right in front of his nose, and he choked back a sob. 

Hands grabbed onto his shirt, and his whole body shattered. He screamed. Screamed until his voice box ran numb. Screamed until his throat bled. Screamed until he choked on his own blood.

The monster crushed him against its chest. Its arms constricted him. His spine cracked in half. Its head rested on his neck, and its teeth slid across his skin. It moved from his neck up to his ear and whispered.

“Thomas. Thomas, it’s me. It’s Remus. Can you hear me?”

"Remus, the door. I can't. The door. I can't find the door. I think I'm dying." 

"You're not going to die. I won't let that happen. Thomas, please tell me your name."

Thomas opened his mouth, but no sound came out.

"Thomas, please!" 

Pins and needles crept from his brain down his whole body. Where was he? He couldn't feel anything. His whole body slacked in the monster's grip.

"Fuck it. I'm getting you out of here, rules or no rules."

Thomas’s back rested against something numbingly cold. The sound of his own heartbeat filled his ears, and it matched a rhythmic beeping sound. He jolted. His arms and legs stayed pinned to the table, and he whimpered.

“Thomas, open your eyes. Can you open them for me?”

Thomas’s eyes opened, but he couldn’t see.

He blinked. He still couldn’t see.

Gentle hands stroked his cheeks. They felt wet. With what, he didn’t know. Thumbs dug at his tear ducts, and he squeezed his eyes shut again. The bony thumbs slid over his eyelids, dragging something cold along with them.

“It’s not going away,” Remus whispered in front of his face.

Thomas’s eyes opened again, but he still couldn’t see.

Restraints broke around his wrists and ankles. Someone pulled him up into a sitting position. If Thomas had to guess judging by smell alone, it was Remus. His touch was much gentler than the scientists, much more friendly. He continued to rub his thumbs over Thomas’s eyes.

A voice to his left spoke, “We may have gone too far.”

Remus’s voice grew dangerously low as he asked, “How long did you do this to him?”

“Almost four hours. It's amazing he survived that long.”

“Nearly four- are you fucking kidding me? You’ve never done this to him longer than an hour.”

“Mind your tone, Subject 90. This was merely a test to see how long he could resist cardiac arrest."

“You- you- I’ll pull your intestines out of your mouth.”

Remus’s hands slipped from Thomas’s face. Thomas’s heart pounded. He reached into the dark to try and bring those warm hands back, but his hands hit dead air.

“Remus. Remus, don’t-”

Two screams choked on their own tongues. Sirens blared, and a door burst open. Rough hands grabbed Thomas, and he squirmed, but he couldn’t fight what he couldn’t see. They pinned his arms to his side with some sort of leather strap and drug him backward off the table. Something cold and sharp pressed against his neck, right where his Adam's apple rested.

“Subject 90,” a voice hissed over Thomas’s shoulder. “Stop this immediately.”

The screams stopped, and two thuds followed. Remus’s harsh pants through his teeth hissed throughout the room. He took a step, and the cold metal pressed tighter against Thomas’s neck.

“Let him go,” Remus snarled.

“You use your power on me and he goes down.”

“You kill him and I'll peel your skin off and feed it to you.”

“Remus, stop. It’s okay,” Thomas choked out. The sharp object nicked his throat. Remus sucked in a sharp breath.

“Are we calm now?” the voice, which Thomas was sure belonged to Dr. Patrickson, asked. “We’re all calm, right?”

Silence swallowed the room.

“Good,” Dr. Patrickson spoke again. “Now, Remus, if you want Thomas back, you’re going to put your mask back on like a good boy and go to your room without a fuss, got it?”

No one dared to speak.

The blade pressed deeper, and Thomas whined as blood trickled down his neck.

“Okay! Okay, fine. I’ll do it.” 

The sound of metal scraping against metal jingled in the air.

Remus’s voice was muffled as he said, “There, are you happy? It’s on. Now, let him go.”

No one moved.

“Hey, a deal is a deal. Let him go.”

“I’m afraid Subject 425 has been damaged and needs to be examined. I’ll return him as soon as I can.”

“You bitch-”

A punch followed a low groan. The blade against Thomas’s neck disappeared, and he struggled to escape.

“Wait, please, don’t hurt him! He was just doing what you asked. Leave him alone!”

Despite his struggles, he couldn’t break free. The strong arms wrapped around his body pulled him out of the room. He heard Remus weakly say his name, but then after that, Thomas only heard his own panicked breathing and heart pounding in his ears. 

“Let me go! Where are you taking me? Please, let me go.”

“Easy, Subject 425. We’ll return you to Remus as soon as that nasty black liquid is clear from your eyes.”

“But-”

“Shhh, Thomas, everything is going to be okay.”

The use of his name lulled him into a false sense of security. It gave Dr. Patrickson enough time to lay him down on a bed and secure his wrists, chest, and ankles. Thomas weakly pulled at the restraints, his head pressing against his pillow, and he whined. 

A recording device beeped. 

“Subject 425, Defect: Indomitable Willpower. Age: 31, Test # 624. Notes. Subject is experiencing blackout from Subject 90’s ability. Data explains he was able to resist the liquid for 2 hours and 30 minutes. Subject was able to resist cardiac arrest for 3 hours and 50 minutes. Subject is to remain in the hospital to monitor how long the effects last and if he survives.”

A low electronic hum, like the sound of a machine powering down, sounded beside them. Dr. Patrickson paused, and a low curse followed after.

“Someone get the power back on. I’m in the middle of a recording!”

A door slammed, and Thomas was left alone in the darkness of his own thoughts.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Said the cunning spider to the fly, "Dear friend, what shall I do,  
To prove the warm affection I've always felt for you?” - The Spider and the Fly 
> 
> Or alternatively, when Thomas met Remus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: dream-reality confusion, spiders, psychological torture, paralysis, physical torture, gore, blood, imprisonment, physical restraints, disturbing imagery, inability to talk, discussions of character death, self-inflicted injury  
Word Count: 5,027

_ **...Four years ago...** _

Thomas landed on his stomach with a low grunt. He clutched his still throbbing head and whined. A dull pain in his right shoulder where an electric shock penetrated his jacket caused his arm muscles to spasm and twitch. 

A voice laughed behind him. 

“Good luck, kid. You’re going to need it.”

The door slammed closed and locked.

Thomas slowly pushed himself onto his hands and knees. The floor was surprisingly soft, as were the walls. He couldn’t tell if the room was completely white or he couldn’t see right. 

The low hum of a fan above him sounded like a microwave on high. There were no windows and only one door. A large mirror took up the wall to his right. 

Oh. Oh no. Where- where was he? It looked like a padded cell from the movies he’d watch. He was still in IODNA, right? Was this where they were holding him until they could figure out how to get rid of him? Why was this room-

Thomas caught sight of someone sitting in the corner with their back facing him. They were wearing all white- a turtleneck and sweatpants- and no shoes. Thick brown straps with golden buckles cradled their short and wild caramel-colored hair. They seemed to have their forehead pressed up against the wall. Their arms hugged their shoulders, and if Thomas listened close enough, they sounded like they were asleep.

Should Thomas call out to them? Were they okay? Why would those scientists put him in here with someone else? Weren't isolated rooms like this supposed to be one occupant each? Or, was this person trying to escape? They wore the IODNA prisoner uniform, so they must’ve been someone… not dangerous, but gifted. Hopefully, they were just gifted and not dangerous. 

Thomas took a deep breath. Maybe calling out to them wouldn’t be an awful idea.

“Hello?” Thomas greeted. “Hey, are you awake?”

The person slowly turned their head. Thomas yelped and backed into the door behind him. He tried to reach for a door handle, but there wasn’t one.

The person’s face was covered completely in solid metal, except for two black circles where the eyes should’ve been. Thomas couldn't tell if there was a nose or mouth hole. How were they breathing? Why were they in that strange mask? The words from the scientist echoed in his head. Thomas’s throat dried out as his stomach churned.

“New friend?” the person said, their hypernasal voice muffled. They tilted their head to the side like a curious cat.

Thomas opened his mouth to speak, but he couldn’t find his voice.

The person stood, their movements too fluid to be real. They crept toward him, their feet pigeon-toed against the soft padded floor.

“Please,” Thomas whispered, “please stop. Stay back.”

The person listened. Their head tilted to the other side, the face mask hiding what true emotion they carried underneath. Thomas really hoped it was just playful confusion.

“Stay back,” they repeated.

Thomas nodded his head like a jackhammer. “Please.”

The person sat about six feet away from him. A black mist leaked from the nose holes in their mask as if they were burning. It dissipated in the air seconds later. They put their hands on their knees. 

The two of them stared at each other for what felt like hours. Neither dared to move a muscle. Neither dared to speak. Thomas wished he could hear a clock so he didn’t have to listen to his quick beating heart.

“You’re here to play, aren’t you?” the person asked.

“No,” Thomas shook his head. “I was here with a friend. I was going to help people, but- but it didn’t work. I got caught.”

“Caught? Like a fly in a spider web.”

Thomas swallowed, the visual making him nauseous. “Yeah, I guess you could say that.”

“Soon to have your guts sucked out of your body and swallowed whole, unable to move, unable to scream, paralyzed from the head down, and at the mercy of the spider who caught you.”

The mist grew thicker the more they spoke. It didn’t disappear like before. Instead, it hung over the person’s head like a dark brainstorming cloud. 

The person continued, “You’re afraid of spiders?”

Thomas nodded. He didn’t want to ask how they knew. He was more worried about how the cloud was starting to engulf the room. If it kept spreading at this rate, Thomas would have no choice but to breathe it in. He covered his nose with his shirt.

The room started to warp around him. It looked like a drop of water hit the surface of a puddle. Thomas’s lungs screamed for air. He covered his mouth and nose with his hand and held his breath. The smoke burned his eyes, and tears ran down his face. They mixed with the black dust and created a black sludge on his cheek.

Eventually, Thomas lost the battle and opened his mouth to take a breath. His body felt like a strong wave crashed over him. He fell over. The dust smelled like incense and tasted like ash. His muscles relaxed, and Thomas felt more tired than he ever had before. 

His body was falling. Falling where? He didn’t know, but he was definitely moving. The ground below him disappeared.

The person's voice cooed, “It’s time for tea, little miss muffet.”

* * *

_Event #2535_

_Subject Identification: #90_

_Sex: Male_

_Age: 24_

_Notes:_

_After a breach in security resulting in the loss of Subject #352, captured human has been placed in a room with Subject #90 to be disposed of._

_Actions:_

_Request for the morgue to prepare for immediate cremation_

_Status: COMPLETE_

* * *

Thomas awoke in total darkness. He felt like he was floating on his back in a pool. No, he wasn’t floating in water. It was more stable than that, almost like a hammock.

Thomas groaned. He squeezed his eyes shut to try and starve off the low throb in his temples. It didn’t work, but he tried. He struggled to move his arms from their raised position above his head, but he found them very much stuck. Thomas pulled a little harder. They still didn’t budge. Thomas tried his legs, which were stuck spread out and also didn’t move. He kicked and wiggled, but nothing gave way.

“Hey,” he called out into the nothingness around him. “Hey, can anyone hear me? Where am I? I think... I need help.”

His own echo answered. Still, Thomas didn’t give up. He trashed the best he could, moving arms, legs, hips, abs, anything that would respond. Nothing moved more than a few inches.

Eventually, Thomas’s muscles screamed for a respite. He stopped moving, whatever holding him there bouncing like a trampoline until it tapered into stillness, and took deep breaths. Sweat soaked his brow. He hadn’t managed to free anything even a little bit.

“Hello? Can anyone hear me?” Thomas tried again. “Please, someone, tell me what’s going on.”

A voice, a whisper at first, echoed in the dark. Thomas had to focus if he wanted to make out its words. Fortunately for him, they got louder and louder, like slowly turning up the volume on a television.

_...the itsy bitsy spider climbed up its victim's leg..._

Thomas jolted. Something touched his leg. Something prickly and sticky, like a sap covered tree branch. Thomas tried to pull his leg back, but it didn’t work. 

_...the itsy bitsy spider wants to hear you beg..._

Thomas’s body dipped down like something heavy stood on the hammock. No, he realized with a sense of dread. This wasn’t a hammock at all, was it? This was- oh no-

_...the itsy bitsy spider feeds off your deepest fear..._

This was a spider web, and he was the fly caught in it. Something wet dripped on Thomas’s cheek, and he recoiled. Hot steam scorched his neck. It smelled like sewage. A low growl hiss vibrated his body.

_..the itsy bitsy spider will make you disappear..._

Thomas started to shiver. He couldn’t see the spider, but he could feel it towering over him. It must've been five feet long and weighed twice as much as he did. Its leg brushed up against his right armpit. Another leg pressed between his ear and his left arm. 

“Stop,” Thomas said, his voice shaking. “Leave me alone.”

The spider’s laugh rumbled through Thomas’s chest. “Why, little fly, should I listen to you?”

Wet fangs brushed Thomas’s neck, and he screamed. The spider merely laughed. A tongue- at least Thomas imagined it was a tongue- licked his jugular. It burned like acid. Thomas felt like his skin peeled off down to the muscle.

“Juicy,” the spider said.

It licked again. Thomas’s entire head went numb. His jaw froze open, and his throat couldn’t do anything but bubble with its drowned scream. Thomas squeezed his eyes shut.

“Scream some more, please,” it begged. “I want to hear you scream. Otherwise, this is no fun.”

The spiderweb below Thomas bounced as the spider shifted its position. Its abdomen now squished up against Thomas’s gut.

“Or at least beg for your life, little fly.”

Thomas tried. Honest, he did. However, with the spider crushing his chest and his throat unable to open, he couldn’t do much besides pray this was over soon.

Think, Thomas, think! What got rid of spiders. His dad? No- a glass to trap it in- no- a rolled-up newspaper! He imagined a giant rolled-up newspaper. He imagined it towering over the spider, ready to strike. Why, he didn’t know, but at least he felt like he was doing something to save his life.

The spider hesitated. It stood and eased the pressure from Thomas’s chest. 

“What’s this?” the spider whispered.

Thwack.

The spider shrieked. The web gave way, and the two of them fell. Web wrapped around Thomas’s body and the spider, locking them together.

The ground caught them and shattered Thomas’s rib cage. A loud pop followed cold slime gushing over Thomas’s body. He gagged as some got up his nose. The taste of glue mixed with dead fish infiltrated his mouth. The slime wave lasted for a few seconds, but it stuck to Thomas’s entire body and soaked his clothes to the bone.

The spider’s body on top of him was dead weight.

Thomas spit the slime off his lips. He struggled to push the spider and web off his body. Slowly, slowly, like a wiggling worm, Thomas freed himself. He stood and backed away from the dead spider until he fell backward. Thomas scrambled to his feet again. 

Was it over? Was he safe now? Were there more of them? Where was he? 

Thomas's whole body shivered from adrenaline and the cold. Teeth chattered and echoed around him. He couldn’t take a deep breath. Instead, he settled on sharp inhales and exhales that barely kept him conscious. 

Step. By step. By slow step, Thomas blindly made his way through the dark. He tried to rub warmth back in his arms. His shivers turned into strong pants which turned into hard sobs. Tears washed away the slime on his face, or at least, pushed it to his chin. It dripped onto the ground below him and made him slip a few times, but Thomas always caught his balance. Spiderweb cocooned his face and arms, but he couldn’t care less to pull them off right now.

He had to find a way out of here.

Footsteps behind him stopped Thomas in his tracks. He didn't want to turn around, too afraid to find out what was behind him, but he did anyway. 

"How did you do that?" a voice asked him. It sounded like the person with the scary mask. 

Thomas squinted, but he couldn't see anything. He asked, "Do what?" 

"How did you control my nightmare?"

"Nightmare?" Thomas blinked. A vague outline of someone standing a few feet away came into his vision. He asked, "What do you mean?" 

"My nightmare," the voice repeated.

"I don't know," Thomas replied.

The voice stayed silent. For a moment, Thomas thought they disappeared. 

There was a shaky breath before they continued, "No one ever controlled my nightmare before. Are you… are you like me? You know... do you have a DNA?"

"Everyone has DNA-" 

"No! A DNA."

"I don't understand-" 

"Defective Natural Ability. A DNA."

"I don't think so. I sometimes can-" Hands covered Thomas’s mouth. A hiss shushed him. Thomas wrinkled his nose as sour breath hit his face. It smelled just like the spider. 

"They are watching."

"Who is watching?" 

"Them. The fae. They're watching us." 

Thomas blinked. A white door appeared, lighting up the room. The person in front of him had bright green eyes and a sad smile. Small strands of hair formed on their lips. How old were they? They looked like a teenager, but Thomas couldn't be sure. 

"Go through the door. It'll wake you up," they explained. 

Thomas watched them for a while. Was this a trick? Was this kid lying? Could he trust them? Could he risk not trusting them?

"What's your name? Thomas asked. 

"Subject #90."

"No, I mean your real name, not your number."

They hesitated, and they offered a little laugh. They looked down at the floor, and a whimper passed their lips. "I don't have one."

Thomas's heart ached. He opened his mouth to speak but closed it soon after. He gathered his thoughts and tried again. "You don't?" 

"No." They shrugged. "The fae always call me Subject #90. That's my name."

Thomas's heart ached. He nodded his head and said, "Oh. My name is-" 

Subject #90 covered Thomas's mouth with their hands and shushed him. They looked over their shoulder and chewed on their lip. When they turned back, their eyes held a glint in them that Thomas couldn't read. 

"Don't say your name here," they said. "The fae are listening."

Thomas mumbled behind their hand, "Who are the fae?" 

“You know,” Subject #90 lowered their voice, “The fae.”

Right. How stupid of him. However, Thomas didn’t feel like invalidating the poor thing, so he nodded his head and responded, “Okay.”

Subject #90 nodded as well. "That's how they control you."

Thomas rose a brow. Subject #90 lowered their hands and gestured to the door with their head. Thomas eyed the door with a wary expression. He took a step toward it, and it creaked open. On the other side, he could see his body slumped against the door of the padded room, his head resting on his chest. 

Thomas turned his attention back to Subject #90. Their smile was sad, regretful almost. They wrung their hands together and looked down.

“Thanks for playing with me,” they said. Their head glanced up. “It’s been a while since someone played with me.”

Thomas couldn’t help the sad smile that crossed his lips. Even if Subject #90 did trap him in this nightmare, something about them was so melancholy, so disheartening, that Thomas couldn’t help but be kind. How did they go so long without a name? How much kindness had Subject #90 seen? 

He heard this place was awful, but not until this moment did it hit him how awful it was.

“You’re welcome,” Thomas replied at last.

Subject #90’s genuine smile answered him. Thomas turned back to the door, took a deep breath, and stepped through the portal. A shining light blinded him, and Thomas shielded his face with his hands.

* * *

The next time Thomas opened his eyes, he was strapped down to a metal table being rushed through a hallway.

Thomas blinked. He tried to sit up, but leather straps covered his chest and arms. He was moving way too fast and was too disoriented to sit up anyway. His head flopped to the side.

“Hang in there, kid. We’ll be there soon,” a voice spoke.

Who was that? Their voice sounded so soothing. Thomas groaned and closed his eyes once again.

* * *

The next time Thomas opened his eyes, he was in a hospital room. A heart monitor beeped beside him, and whispering traveled through the doorway. He caught a few words.

Survived.

No eyes.

Miracle.

What happened?

Thomas rolled his head to the right. He could see out the window. The day was bright, and the clouds were puffy like pillows.

Did someone save him? Was he out of IODNA?

“He’s awake.”

Thomas turned his head back to the left. A doctor with a clipboard and a white facemask walked into the room. He stood at Thomas’s bed and scribbled something down before he looked up. 

“Hello there,” the doctor said. “You gave us quite a scare, you know. We thought you were dead.”

Thomas opened his mouth, but his dry throat didn’t allow any words to escape. He swallowed and tried again.

The doctor continued, “Shh, you’re safe now. Don’t speak unless you have to. Subject #90 wreaks havoc on the body. It’s a miracle you survived. He’s never left anyone alive before.”

Subject #90.

Thomas’s brain screamed. He was still in IODNA, but he must be on the top level. He looked at the IVs running through his arm and noticed a strange blue liquid flowing through the tubes. What was that? Why couldn’t he move?

“Once you gain the ability to speak again, I’ll need to know a few things, such as your name and age. I’ll also need to run some tests to find out if Subject #90’s nightmare dust is still in your veins. We’re doing lab work right now to try and determine how you survived his defect.”

Thomas flinched at that. He watched the doctor write a few more things down and click his pen off and on.

“So, this is the one who survived.”

Thomas turned his head back to the doorway. The man who walked in had silver hair slicked back into a ponytail. His blue eyes studied Thomas through glasses that had more spots on them than a dalmatian. Of what, Thomas didn’t know, but they could use a good cleaning. The man stepped closer and sat at the edge of Thomas’s bed. The wrinkles in his eyes showed the genuine delight of an aged man.

“I’m very interested to know how,” he added. Thomas’s eyes widened. This was the man that spoke to him on the way here, the one with the soothing voice.

Thomas tried to speak, but his throat betrayed him once again.

The man chuckled and shook his head. He said, “I’d imagine you suffered quite a bit of trauma from that. No one that I know of has ever survived more than a minute with Subject #90. But you... you went a whole ten minutes and came out alive. It was the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen.”

Funny, Thomas didn’t feel amazing.

The man extended his hand for Thomas to shake. “It’s nice to finally meet someone else who can hold their own around here. My name is Dr. William Oberon, and it’s a privilege to meet you.”

Thomas eyed the doctor’s hand but didn’t shake it. Dr. Wiliam didn’t seem to mind. He let his hand float back down into his lap and let out a long sigh.

“I look forward to working with you more in the future,” he said. Something about the cold glint in his eye sent shivers through Thomas’s body. He avoided eye contact and stared at his hands clutching the blanket over his body. Dr. William stood, and he spoke to the doctor writing notes. “Make sure he gets a collar. I want to know everything about him.”

* * *

_Event #2536_

_Subject Identification: #425_

_Sex: Male_

_Age: 27 (*edited) _

_Notes:_

_Subject has miraculously survived Subject #90’s nightmare defect. _

_Actions:_

_Subject to be added to the Genetic Enhancement Lab Studies to identify if he contains a defect or not._

_Status: COMPLETE_

* * *

The next time Thomas was thrown into Subject #90's room (it felt awful referring to him as Subject #90; Thomas had to fix that), he knew what the mirror was. It wasn’t just a mirror. It was a two-way mirror, meaning the scientists could see and watch what was going on but he couldn't see the scientists.

Subject #90 perked up after the door slammed closed. That expressionless mask stared at Thomas for a good few minutes before Subject #90 spoke.

“Oh, you’re back!"

Thomas sent a nervous smile. He nodded his head and responded, “They, uh, they want to see if, you know, it happens again.”

“What happens again?” Subject #90 tilted his head. He snapped his fingers. “Oh! Spooky scary time, right? They want to see if we play again, right?”

“Uh, right,” Thomas replied.

“Oh, how should we play this time?" Subject #90 rubbed his hands together. “I could empale you with a sword until you bleed to death. Or, I could throw you in a maze where you get lost until this giant dragon burns you to a crisp and eats your legs. Or, I can have you dissected by aliens where your eyes are squeezed out and put on toast. Tie you up in a coffin and bury you alive? Trap you in a tower and sew your mouth shut? Oh, that one sounds delightful actually-”

“Stop,” Thomas begged. He rubbed his hand over his face. “Please, stop.”

Subject #90 tilted his head, wisps of smoke escaping from behind his mask. He asked, “Don’t you like my creativity?”

“I didn’t-” Thomas put his hands together and inhaled. “I just don’t want to think about that kind of stuff.”

“Why not?” Subject #90 asked. “It’s fun!”

“No, it is not fun. It’s disgusting. And horrible. And- and-”

“And demented?” Something about how he said demented with such a cheery voice sent shivers down Thomas’s spine. He continued, “I know! They tell me that all the time, but I can’t help it. When you’ve watched three or four or five bodies get mutilated beyond control, it kinda makes you a little silly.”

“Silly isn’t the word I’d use,” Thomas mumbled under his breath.

Subject #90 clapped his hands together. “Can we play now? Is it time for tea, little miss muffet?”

“Why do you keep calling me that?”

“Didn’t a spider eat her?”

“No, that’s... I’m pretty sure that’s not how that nursery rhyme goes.”

“Oh,” he said, his cheerful voice dropping for a moment, but he picked it back up a few seconds later, “We could pretend it is.”

Thomas blew through his lips and ran a hand through his hair.

“Wait, wait, wait, hold on a minute,” Subject #90 said, his voice getting rather low. He took three steps forward, and Thomas took a step back. The boy froze in place, and he pulled at the neck of his turtleneck. “You have a collar.”

Thomas's fingers ghosted over the slim silver metal locked on his neck. “Yes. I do."

Subject #90 stayed eerily silent for a moment. Thomas wondered what the collar meant to him. As far as Thomas knew, it was only tracking his vital signs, like his heartbeat. Was there something deeper than that? Didn’t Subject #90 have one too? Subject #90 sighed, catching Thomas’s attention again.

“You’re not here to play because you want to, are you? They’re forcing you to play with me?” His voice was quiet, barely above a whisper. Thomas’s heart ached a bit at that. He nodded his head, and Subject #90 let out a choked laugh. “I knew it. You’re not here because you like me. They’re forcing you to play with me.”

Thomas opened his mouth to reply, but he closed it soon after. Subject #90 sniffled, and he rubbed the metal on his cheek. His fingernails dug into his scalp, and his laughter grew a little more hysterical. Suddenly, he was full out laughing, and Thomas felt like he missed the biggest joke in his life.

“They’re watching. They’re always watching. They’re just waiting for the day I can be tamed.” 

Subject #90 walked over to the mirror, and he pressed his hands against it. He reeled his head back. There was a pause. His head barreled forward and smashed against the glass, making Thomas jump. He pulled his head back and smashed it against the glass again. Surprisingly it didn't crack, but Thomas couldn't say anything about Subject #90's head.

“I know you’re there,” Subject #90 screamed at the top of his lungs. “I’m not going to play just because you want me to. You can’t control me. I am an eternal flame! I won’t bow to you. I have standards! I’ll poison every one of you bastards, and there’s not a thing you can do to stop me!”

Thomas’s hand on Subject #90's shoulder caused him to jump. He whirled around, his nose producing more smoke than the first time Thomas was trapped. His shoulders heaved from breathing so heavily. Blood dripped down from his forehead and pooled on the rim of his silver mask.

“Stop,” Thomas said, his voice gentle. His eyes gazed at Subject #90's forehead. He carefully moved a stray strand of hair out of the wound, revealing a red mark from where Subject #90 smashed his head against the glass. “Please, don’t hurt yourself. It’s not going to do any good.”

“What do you know?” Subject #90 snapped. He slammed his hands into Thomas's shoulder and forced Thomas away. Thomas lost his balance and fell backward onto the cushions below him. He stared up at Subject #90, his heart beating fast with fear. 

Subject #90 pointed a finger at Thomas and continued to scream, “You don’t know anything! You don’t know about me or this place or what they do to you, do you? You haven’t been stuck here for years with no friends and no family and no comfort for your whole life, have you? So don’t you start telling me what to do like you know what you're doing! I don’t even know you, so why should I listen to a word you say? You can’t control me either! No one can.”

Subject #90 fell to his knees, his sobs shaking his shoulders. He pulled at the mask, his fingers slipping on the bottom of it. After tugging a few times, he collapsed onto his right side and curled into a fetal position, his cries shaking his whole body. The blood from his forehead stained the white cushions below his head.

Thomas could only watch in pure pity. He wanted to reach out and comfort him, but he didn’t want to overstep a boundary. Instead, he settled on folding his legs and hugging his arms. For a while, the only noise in the room was Subject #90’s crying.

“Thomas.”

Subject #90 flinched. He stopped crying, his fit dying down into restrained sniffles, and pushed himself up into a sitting position. He whispered, "What?”

“My name. It’s Thomas.”

Subject #90 stared at Thomas through the mask for a few moments. He sniffled snot back up his nose and rubbed the nose part of his mask. “You shouldn’t have said that. Now they know who you are.”

“And so do you.”

“Why would you... why would you risk that... for me?”

Thomas thought for a moment. He tested scooting closer to Subject #90. Subject #90 didn’t move. Thomas slid until he was sitting beside Subject #90, both their backs pressed up against the wall under the two-way mirror. For a moment, Thomas said nothing. He inhaled and exhaled, choosing his words carefully.

“I don’t know.”

Subject #90 let out a light laugh. He sniffled and rubbed his mask once again. Thomas looked at the straps on the back. It looked like he needed a special key to open it, and without it, the mask wouldn’t just slide off. Thomas wondered if Subject #90’s face was vacuum sealed against the metal or something. It looked like it fit Subject #90’s face perfectly. Would he get a mask like that? He shuddered at the thought.

Subject #90 sighed, and he looked down at his lap. “I don’t have a name to give you.” 

“Well,” Thomas thought for a moment. “How about Michael?”

Subject #90 thought for a moment. “Michael? Miiiichael. Nah, I don’t like it.”

Thomas laughed. “Okay, um, what about Alex?”

“Aaaaaaahlex? Hmm, it doesn’t really feel like me either.”

Thomas gave a little more thought to his next suggestion. “How does Remus sound? You know, like REM sleep. That’s where you, um, that’s when people have nightmares”

“Remus,” Subject #90 played with the name a bit. He hummed and said again, “Reeeeeemus. You know, I kind of like the sound of that one. Remus.”

Remus gave a light laugh, which evolved into a loud one. Thomas couldn’t help but smile too.

“Hi, Thomas. My name is Remus,” he said, his giggles shaking his shoulders. “I have a name now. Remus. I’m Remus. Remus the nightmare boy. Subject Reeemus. Remus the spooky thought. Remus the intrusive ghost. Remus the Pemus- wait, that doesn’t rhyme. Can I change it to Renis? No, wait, I don’t like Renis as much as Remus. Scratch that. I’m still Remus.”

Thomas couldn’t help but laugh. “It’s nice to meet you, Remus.”

The newly dubbed Remus giggled again, and he rubbed his hands together. After a moment, he leaned into Thomas’s side, his head lolling against Thomas’s shoulder. If Thomas minded, he didn’t move.

“Hey, Thomas?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re here with me right now, real or not real?”

Thomas furrowed his brow. “Uh, real?”

Remus nodded. “I thought so.”

“What do you mean, real or not real? Of course I’m real, Remus.”

“I was worried this was a dream.”

Thomas’s heart pinched. He let out a long sigh through his nose, and he reiterated, “I’m right here, Remus. This is all real.”

“Does this... does this mean we’re friends now, Thomas? Can we be friends? I never had a friend like you before. I want to keep you. Can I keep you?”

Thomas couldn’t help but smile. He replied, “Yeah, I guess it does.”

He’d worry about the keeping part later. For now, he didn’t want to ruin Remus’s pride parade.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you can join the discussion on the AODNA Discord here: https://discord.gg/xnB4Xca


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The cast of DODNA is on a rescue mission: Find Roman, find Thomas, get them both out, and break that machine. Everything was organized and ready to go way before tonight. They were prepared for anything.
> 
> Well, almost anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: fights, threats of killing a character, descriptions of past torture, PTSD episode, a mention of Islamophobia, blood, gore, being buried alive, implied minor character death (good riddance tho?)  
Word Count: 5,335

“Get the fuck off of me!” Remus yelled as he thrashed his entire upper body backward. His feet squeaked on the floor as the scientists yanked him forward. Smoke puffed from his nose like an angry dragon. 

The two scientists struggling to contain him, unfortunately, had gas masks on, so all he had to rely on was his strength, which, for a malnourished 28-year-old, was almost impossible. One scientist had a firm grip on his short hair. The other had their hand fisted in the back of his shirt. Both of them squeezed his arm so tight it would surely leave a bruise.

Remus didn’t care. They hurt Thomas. They stole Thomas. They stole _his_ Thomas from him. How dare they! How dare they separate him from his only friend! What were they going to do to him? To his Thomas? Were they going to experiment further on him? Were they going to hurt him again? Remus wouldn’t stand for it. Thomas was _his_. They couldn’t just take the only thing he had in this miserable life from him. Not without a fight!

“Will you stop,” one of the scientists hissed. “You’re only making this harder on-”

“Let go!” Remus shouted over them. He somehow managed to wiggle his right arm free. Remus swung. He didn’t care what he hit, he just wanted it to _hurt_. He smacked the scientist’s mask. The scientist yelped and let go of Remus’s hair in surprise. 

Remus set his sight on the other scientist. He grabbed their mask and yanked. The mask slipped off just far enough, and Remus puffed as much smoke as he could out his nose. The scientist let go and retreated but not fast enough. They inhaled Remus's dust and coughed and sputtered. Their balance tipped, and they fell.

Strong arms wrapped around Remus’s torso, pinning his arms at his side.

“Help! I need backup! Subject 90 is resisting return to his cell!”

Remus kicked his feet. He connected to something, but the scientist didn’t let go. They only squeezed harder. Remus wiggled and trashed and flailed and moved anything and everything that would respond. His fist pounded into their thigh. His heels kicked their shin. Nothing seemed to shake them.

Nothing, that is, until the lights went out.

For a moment, Remus froze. The haunting emergency lights lit up the hallway, casting both of them in a blood-covered glow. Remus saw his moment. He pulled his head forward as hard as it would go and backed it up. His head connected to the scientist’s mask with a sickening crack. Whether it was the mask, his head, or the scientist’s nose, he didn’t care. All that mattered was they let go and retreated.

Remus lashed out for their mask. They tried to block him, but Remus was too quick. He pulled their mask just far enough to get his nightmare dust underneath it and exhaled. The scientist coughed a few times and backed into the wall.

Then, as they collapsed to the floor, the hallway became deathly silent.

Remus panted hard behind his mask. He fished around in the scientist’s pocket for a skeleton key. Nothing. He went to the other, checking pockets for a key, a knife, anything to get this stupid mask off. Nothing.

Remus cursed. He was wasting time. Thomas needed him.

“You’re lucky I only have time to put you two to sleep,” Remus growled. “But don’t worry. I’ll finish the job later.”

With one last huff, he took off down the hall with nothing but intuition to guide him.

* * *

“There. That’ll buy us at least ten minutes.”

JD eyed the security camera, its glass pointing down at the ground like a guilty pet, and watched the red recording light on top of it power down. Good, IODNA didn’t figure out how to keep the security cameras on after a power outage yet. JD prayed they never would. 

“Rem, keep the power out as long as you can. If anyone crosses you, you know what to do,” JD informed.

“You got it, babe,” Rem responded as he flashed a thumbs up. He leaned on the wall and twisted one of the wires around his index finger. Sparks of electricity flowed directly from the panel box up his arm. His green-dyed hair stood on end, and his eyes glowed a bright metallic blue. 

JD turned and eyed the team behind him. He felt fur twitch against his leg, and he took a deep breath.

Showtime.

“Alright, Team A, you know your target. Follow the directions we gave Claw and bring him out unharmed if possible,” JD instructed. He turned to the team beside them. “Team B, you need to sabotage that machine the best you can. I don’t care if you smash it to pieces or steal one part so it can’t operate again. We got to get it to stop stealing defective blood.”

“Gifted blood,” he heard someone mumble under their breath.

“Whatever!” he harshly hissed. He regained his composure and responded, “Hobo and I are going in deep isolation. If we don’t make it out in ten minutes-” JD paused- “leave without us.”

The team split off into their three groups. JD looked down at Hobo, their bright golden eyes staring up at him with a determined glint, and they nodded. 

The light around JD bent. His frame extended into an elegant long-limbed woman. Golden locks wrapped around his head and tied into a messy bun at the base of his neck His skin grew freckles all over, and his fingernails extended into pink painted talons. He fished the fake glasses out of his pocket and put them on. The ID tag in his pocket fell out, and he picked it up.

Dr. Angelica F. Knowles, Female, Age: 39, Psychiatrist.

“You ready, Hobo?” JD asked, his voice squeaking like a teenager in love. He cleared his throat. It settled back down into a swaver tone. He repeated, “You ready, Hobo?”

Hobo stared up at him and blinked, for Hobo was a cat and could not answer.

“Hey, JD,” Rem said from behind them. JD turned, and he met Rem’s too serious expression. Rem’s arm vibrated from the load of electricity his body absorbed. His clothes sparked with static electricity as he moved. “If I don’t see you again, thanks for everything.”

“You’ll see me again,” JD replied. “If everyone follows the plan, this will all be over in three minutes.”

“Oh, huh, funny you should say that, because I think I just saw Patton sneak into the building.”

JD’s world screeched to a halt. He spun around, his mouth floundering. Hobo let out a low growl beside him, and JD finally found his words.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

“I really wish I wasn’t, babe.”

“If they don’t murder him first, I’m going to,” JD growled. He took off toward the back door with Hobo on his heels. He tried not to slam the door open or closed.

The dull red light made every shape indistinguishable from the next, but he was sure they were in the storage room. JD’s high heels clicked on the floor as he tried to keep his breathing even.

“What was he thinking,” JD muttered under his breath. “It better not have been him. It better have been Rem seeing things, or I swear I’ll wring his neck. I told him to stay home for fuck’s sake. But no, Patton said. I can help, Patton said. I can get myself stuck in an institution that will use my powers for evil instead of good just to see my friend again and not trust the only person who has ever looked out for me in their life, Patton said. Why are self-righteous people so incredibly stupid.” JD’s ankles wobbled, and he cursed. “How do people run in high heels?”

Hobo shook their head.

JD decided the heels were no longer worth it and threw them off. They landed with a loud thump somewhere, but JD didn’t really care where.

“Okay, new plan,” JD hissed. “We find Patton. We kill Patton. Then we drag his dead corpse home so we can bring him back to life and I can kill him again as myself.”

Hobo yowled unhappily and stopped dead in their tracks. They shifted into their human form, their yellow eyes livid.

“What about Thomas?” they spat. “I’m not leaving here without him again.”

JD sighed and squished his cheeks with both his hands. He rubbed his face. “I don’t know what to tell you. I can’t leave Patton here-”

“Well, I can’t leave Thomas here. It was my fault he got stuck here in the first place. I didn’t watch him, and those bastards-” Hobo swiped at their eyes. “I had to live with the fact that I killed my best friend for a year. I’ve been trying to figure out how to get him out for three whole fucking years. Now I know I can save him and you want me to just leave him here? I’m not doing it.”

“Then go get him,” JD harshly whispered, reminding Hobo to keep their voice down. Hobo’s eyes narrowed, and JD continued, “I’m not going to stop you. If you feel that strongly, go get him, but I’ve got to get Patton before the same thing happens to him.”

“Fine,” Hobo hissed. Their body shrank, and Hobo’s paws padded on the tile floor as they darted off down the hall. 

JD tried to run his fingers through his hair. His long fingernails snagged in his tied up hair, and JD hissed as he pulled them out. He shook the ruined strands of hair from his fingers and let out a long sigh.

Why couldn’t things go smoothly for once?

“You better not be captured already, Patton,” JD mumbled to himself as he set off down the hall in the opposite direction Hobo ran.

* * *

In all their years of running with DODNA, Claw had never seen anything so disgusting in all their life. The walls were supposed to be white, but more red lined the wall and floor (and in some spots, the ceiling) than should’ve been possible. Tiles were missing and cracked, some leaving sharp edges, which would wreak havoc on the bare-footed victims being dragged through this mess. Bloody footprints of all sizes proved that. The hallway was crusted with dirt and dust, meaning any cut they received was likely to get infected and cause even more pain.

Claw folded their wings behind their back and tried not to get sick. Their stomach churned unhappily, and they swallowed their half-digested applesauce cupcake back down their throat. They heard stories of the scientists keeping a torture section, but they never saw it with their own eyes.

“What the fuck,” someone from the team whispered.

Claw took a deep breath and steeled themselves. It didn’t matter that tears of sympathy welled in their eyes. It didn’t matter that they thought of every person trapped here that they failed. They had a team to keep track of, and they’d be dead before they let them fall victim to something like this.

“Spread out and search every room,” Claw instructed. “I’ll keep a lookout. If you hear me yell “cheetah” get out as fast as possible.”

“But what if there are other people in the other rooms?” a girl in her mid-teens asked. Claw recognized her as Rose.

Claw sighed. It hurt to say this, but they answered, “Let’s just hope we don’t find anyone else here.”

It wasn’t a satisfying answer to the question, but it was the best one they could give without sounding too heartless. 

The team of five spread out and started their hunt. Thankfully, the keypads were off because of the outage, so all they had to do was stick their skeleton keys in the holes and open the doors behind them. So far, nine of the twenty doors held no one inside.

“Oh my god,” Rose whispered as she covered her mouth. She turned from her doorway and called out, “Guys, I think… I think I found him.”

The team's attention turned to her, and she motioned for them to follow. One of the team members, Nightlight, lit up the room with his natural luminescence. Though, when he stepped inside, he wished he didn’t.

The stone-walled room with tile flooring was cold, way too cold. Red splatters stained the pores of the room and told more ghost stories than a novel. Smashed porcelain dusted the floor. A half-empty water bottle rested on its side, and the remains of a spoiled sandwich decomposed in the corner. 

In the middle of the room was a curled up lump of white. Their back was turned, the shoulder they didn’t lay on looked out of place, and from their curled up position, the scars of past abuse showed on the small of their back. 

Claw moved their way to the front, their team stepping aside to let their leader through. They froze in an instant. Their hands stopped the bile rising through their throat, and they gagged. The time ticked on their watch and reminded them they had a job to do, and they pressed forward. Their hand glided out, a slight tremble in their arm, and they placed it on the person in front of them.

“Hey,” Claw tried, their voice as steady as they could make it. “Hey, are you… Roman?”

This person, Roman, didn’t acknowledge them. Claw tried again.

“Roman, this is… I’m here to help you. Are you- please wake up.”

We were too late, Claw thought with bitterness hardening their body. Their teeth clenched. They’d make someone pay for this. Who, they didn’t know, but someone.

The white shape twitched. His hand unwrapped itself from his head and revealed thick leather straps circling around his skull. The metal pressed against his face caused Claw to cover their mouth with the back of their hand. Suddenly the thrown sandwich in the corner made them sicker than before.

“Roman?” they asked.

Roman- he couldn’t confirm their answer but Claw was sure this was Roman- blinked up at them with lackluster green eyes. His eyes watered, but he blinked the tears away.

Claw helped Roman sit up. They wrapped their wings around his shivering body, hoping they’d help provide some form of warmth. Roman leaned against them, his head lolling against their shoulder and eyes slipping closed. Only then did a tear fall from his eyes.

Claw reached their hand behind them and called their team forward. “Someone give me a skeleton key so I can get this torture device off him.”

Five different keys presented themselves.

Claw took the key from Rose and adjusted Roman so they could easily reach the straps. They wiggled the key in, listening for the telltale click of the lock opening. From the corner of their eye, a team member, Smash, stood at the door.

“Not to hurry you, captain, but I think I heard someone,” he murmured.

Claw whispered a curse under their breath. They abandoned the key and fished around in their satchel for a pair of steel scissors. Working as quickly as they could and trying not to cut any of Roman’s already ruined hair, they separated one… two… three straps connecting the muzzle to his face. Claw yanked it away and threw it into the dark.

Roman took a deep breath through his mouth and coughed. His audible sigh of relief caused Claw’s heart to crack.

“Thank you,” he whispered, his trembling voice still smooth as butter.

“Can you walk?” Claw asked.

Roman shifted, but he didn’t make it far before collapsing against Claw. His head buried into their shoulder as he shook his head no.

“That’s okay. Don’t worry; we’re getting you out of here.” Claw turned their attention back to their team. “Smash, I might need you to carry Roman. I don’t know if-”

A hand on Claw’s arm caused them to stop. They glanced down at Roman, their eyebrows wrinkled in confused worry.

“Logan,” Roman whispered. “I can’t leave without Logan.”

“Who’s Logan?” Claw asked. 

Roman’s hand squeezed on their arm, and his breathy laugh preceded his explanation. “Logan is… my friend.”

Claw’s heart ached. They didn’t know where this Logan person was, and they didn’t have time to go looking. They were pressing their luck now as it was. So, instead, they cleared their throat and gave a half-truth. 

“We’ll get him out, don’ worry.”

“They. Logan prefers they.”

A swell of pride lit in Claw’s stomach. They glanced over their shoulder and gave a nod. Smash took Roman from Claw’s hand, a frown settling on his lips as he realized how cold Roman was, and stood with Roman cradled in his arms.

The team checked to make sure the coast was clear. After no activity in the hallway, they moved quickly as a unit toward the exit. 

Claw couldn’t help but realize they didn’t run into any guards on their journey out. Worry settled in their stomach. Where was everyone? Why weren’t they all over the group stealing Roman? Was this a setup? Claw hoped none of the other teams were captured.

As they stepped out into the night air, they caught sight of Rem leaning heavily against the wall. Sweat dripped down his brow, and he looked like he was going to be sick. Claw spread their wings and raced over to him. They checked their watch.

Eight minutes, three seconds.

“You doing okay, Rem?” they asked.

Rem’s eyes were distant as he glanced up. However, he managed his signature cocky smile and flashed a thumbs up.

“I don’t know how much longer I can hold it,” he whispered.

“You’re doing great,” Claw reassured. They checked their watch again.

Eight minutes, nineteen seconds.

“If they’re not out in a minute or so, we-” Claw swallowed hard- “we have to stop and get out of here.”

Rem shook his head. Claw furrowed their brow. They opened their mouth to speak, but Rem beat them to it.

“Patton’s in there.”

Claw hissed through their teeth, “You’re kidding me.”

“I really wish I wasn’t, babe.”

Claw turned their attention to Roman, who at some point passed out in Smash’s arm. If they had a hat, they would’ve thrown it on the ground in anger. Here they were risking their lives for Patton’s sake, and Patton was in there foolishly risking not only his life but everyone else’s as well. Didn’t he know how dangerous this was? Didn’t he realize if he was captured, this was all for nothing? How could he be so careless?

“Let’s just hope JD finds him,” Rem whispered.

Claw sighed and ran a hand through their hair. That had to be why they saw no scientists. Something went wrong; they knew it. They turned back to their team. The high of successfully completing the mission now plummeted into fear and unease. 

Claw wished they could say something to give their team hope, but even they knew anything they said was going to be a lie. They weren’t as good as JD at raising their team’s spirit. They couldn’t lie through their teeth and make it sound true. They needed him. With a silent whisper of hope, Claw kept their eyes trained on the back door they escaped from.

Eight minutes, 58 seconds. 

They could still make it.

* * *

“I can’t do this,” she whispered as she collapsed onto her hands and knees. She choked. Breathe. Breathe in. Breathe. Do something. Her fingers wove into her hijab. Breathe. She was fi- she was not fine. She was so not fine- it was- this was all too much.

Everything sounded like she was underwater. Another. And another. So many voices. So many emotions. Too much. It was too much. Breathe- relax- no, she couldn’t. She was in d a n g e r. Danger. Danger.

_Puteri… princess…_

Another voice.

_I wish they’d just leave us alone!_

Another voice.

_Puteri, I need you for that machine. Now._

Another voice.

_Are they going to kill me? Please don’t let them kill me. I didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean it. I don’t want to die!_

Another voice.

_I’ll hold them off as long as I can. Go. Please. Get him out of here. I can’t let them capture both of you. I’ll… I’ll be okay._

Another voice.

_You tell them about us, and I will make sure you, your daughters, and my precious son see nothing but torture for the rest of your life. And you know I’ll win, you Muslim terrorists._

“Mom. Mom! Mom, look at me. It’s Nor. It’s me! Please.”

“This was such a bad idea.”

“We have to get her out of here.”

“No! Don’t touch her. She’ll lash out. Mom, hey, I know you’re in a bad place right now, but you have to listen to me. You’re safe. We’re not going to let anything hurt you, I promise.”

“She’s right, mom. I’m making her tell the truth.”

“We’re helping Roman, remember? We’re getting him out of here. We’re destroying that machine you built. They’re not going to be able to use anyone anymore. We’re going to win.”

“This isn’t working. We have to get her out of here. It’s the only way-”

A hand latched onto Damia’s arm, causing the girl to squeal. She stared down at her mom with as comforting eyes as she could, and she put a hand to Puteri’s own.

“Mom?”

Puteri’s lips begged, “Reassure me. We’re here. We’re in DODNA. I’m not- I’m not-”

“No, you’re not a prisoner anymore. You’re here... with us. It’s okay. Breathe in and hold it with me.”

Damia took an exaggerated breath. Puteri hiccupped, but she eventually was able to do as Damia did. The two of them held their breaths. Damia breathed out, and Puteri clumsily followed her.

“It’s working. Her chi is starting to shift. Damia, keep it up.”

For about two minutes, mother and daughter sat on the floor and took deep breaths in. Damia saw her mother’s eyes start to become aware of her surroundings again. Puteri almost relapsed again, but Damia’s gentle voice called her back. Puteri knew she couldn’t be a prisoner if Damia and Nor were there, and it helped to ground her.

“We’re getting her out of here,” Nor whispered.

“No,” Puteri responded, “No I- I can do this.”

“Mom, you got hurt just walking these hallways. I’m not gonna-”

“Nor, I am your mother, and I will not tolerate you telling me what to do.”

“Yeah, well, I’m a doctor, and I won’t tolerate _you_ telling _me_ what to do, mother.”

Damia let out a long, hard sigh. She turned her attention to the team waiting for Puteri’s episode to end. One of them tapped their watch, reminding them they were still on the clock. Damia sighed through her nose.

“Mom, Nor’s right. We can’t risk this. I know you want to help, but-”

“I’m the only one who knows where the machine is, and damn it, I’m going to stop what I started. Let me have… let me have some peace of mind. Let me fix this. Please.”

Damia’s eyes shifted from Puteri to Nor. She stood, and her mom stood with her. Puteri’s shoulders straightened, and determination lined her brow.

“Let’s go screw with a machine.”

Nor rubbed her eyes with her thumb and index finger, and Damia couldn’t help but dry laugh.

The team continued its mission. Puteri led them down a series of hallways, her hands firmly squeezed between Nor and Damia’s own grounding grip, and stopped at a heavily locked door. 

Puteri put her hands on the metal. The door whined and squealed. It crumbled up like a piece of paper and clattered to the floor.

The room inside was covered in chromium. Its shiny surfaces reflected the ragtag team as they stepped inside. The room itself was the length of a football field with multiple electronic devices inside. Puteri knew each and everyone way too well. Most machines were originally built to help people, such as heart monitors, IV bag holders, and respirators. However, few were ever used on willing patients.

The machine that held Puteri’s interest lay in the center of the room. If she looked closely, she could see where her work ended and someone else’s flimsy work began. The cylinder opening didn’t even have a padded seat for the person below it to rest on. It was nothing but wires and straps designed to hurt as much as possible. She snorted. This machine was going to be painful with her working on it. How much torture did the people put inside suffer through without her expertise? She banished the thought. 

Puteri got on the ground and slid underneath the machine like a car mechanic. Her palms ghosted over vital pieces. Her fingers danced, and screws and bolts unfastened themselves at alarming rates. The machine groaned. Puteri still continued her work. It shifted, and Nor screamed outside, but she still continued. Her hands found the motherboard of the machine, and she yanked- yanked- yanked it free. It cracked in half like a crunchy cookie.

Hands grabbed Puteri’s ankles and pulled. She yelped as she slid out from under the machine. The machine collapsed. Puteri backed up as it crashed forward. It let out one final groan and shifted once before it died.

For a moment, all they could do was stare at the damage in front of them.

“It’s gone,” Puteri whispered. She lightly laughed. “It’s gone. I- I did it.” Puteri’s laughter turned into sobs, and she covered her mouth.

Nor wrapped her arms around her mom’s shoulders, and Damia followed suit. The family huddled together on the floor. For a moment, the team allowed them to relish in Puteri’s success.

“Hey, we gotta go,” one of the team members called out. “I see security.”

Damia and Nor both helped their mother stand, and they led her to the door. They did it! They destroyed that awful machine. Now they had more time. The “scientists” would have to wait weeks until it was fixed, and that would give them enough time to get as many people out as they could. The group ran down two hallways before they slid to a stop.

A firing squad awaited their arrival, and at the head was none other than Dr. Patrickson himself.

“Well, well, I must say, I’m impressed you made it this far,” he said as he clapped his hands. His eyes darkened. “However, I must advise you to-”

Guns started flying out of the squad’s hands. It startled the small army, who cried out in protest, some attempting to fire their weapons and failing, and some who backed away.

Puteri’s eyes glowed silver with anger. The guns collected at her feet, and she stepped over them. Her hands balled into fists. The metal ceiling above them groaned, threatening to crush anyone below it.

“You’re not going to advise me to do anything anymore,” Puteri growled.

Dr. Patrickson took a step back. His lips twitched in fear, and he snarked, “You’ll- you’ll never get him back. I have him so fucked up that he won’t even remember who you are. You’re too late. He’s my son now.”

Puteri screamed. She yanked her hands down, bringing the ceiling down with them. Plaster and metal collapsed on the group of guards, cutting off screams and limbs, and buried them underneath a thick wall of rubble. The last expression Puteri saw of Dr. Patrickson was a look of pure panic before the rubble buried him alive.

“He was never your son,” Puteri snarled. She stepped on his exposed hand, relishing in the sickening crack it made, and backed up. She turned to her team, their eyes wide in both awe and fear, and cleared her throat. “I know another way out. Follow me.”

The team raced down the maze of halls. Puteri glanced at her watch. Seven minutes. They still had time. 

“Mom!”

Puteri slid to a stop. She stared at the end of the hall, her heart pounding. A black shadow lit by red lights with heaving shoulders stood at the end of the hall. Those straps around their head, that cropped short hair that Puteri hated back in the day-

No. No, it couldn’t be.

“Roman?” she called out.

The figure at the end of the hall didn’t move.

Puteri took a step forward. Nor grabbed onto her arm, and Puter patted her hand. She turned back to the shadow, which now turned to look at them. A face mask covered their entire face, and Puteri’s heart cracked.

“Oh, Roman, what did they do to you, baby?” she called out.

The shadow took a step back. Puteri bit her lip. Dr. Patrickson’s words echoed in her head, and she blinked the tears back. She _was_ too late. Her voice cracked as she spoke again, her steps cautious and slow like she was approaching a scared animal.

“Roman, sweetheart, it’s me. It’s Mom. You know, Miss Puteri? You remember me, right?”

Smoke puffed from behind the mask, and Puteri stopped in her tracks. She took a step back as the person took a step forward.

“Thomas? Where is Thomas? I have to find him,” the voice spoke.

It sounded so much like Roman, but something about it was just… off.

Wait, wasn’t Thomas who Hobo was looking for?

“We’re looking for him now,” Puteri answered.

The body froze solid. Shoulders tensed as feet marched and pounded on the floor. Puteri took a step back. Smoke followed the shadow like a train engine.

“You’re looking for Thomas? Why? Are you going to hurt him? Are you going to take him from me? You can’t do that!”

Hands grabbed onto Puteri’s arms tight enough to bruise. They shook her arms, and Puteri bit back a yelp. 

“Get off her!” Damia shouted from behind. She raced forward to attempt to free her mom.

Those black glass holes stared at Puteri, hiding every expression this person had. Puteri could hear their frantic breathing and the tremble in their voice as they spoke. Smoke poured out of the holes by their nostrils, causing Puteri to cough. Her head started to numb, and she swayed sideways.

“Mom!”

The masked stranger dropped her like a hot tray. They wove their fingers through their hair and pulled. Mom? Why would that person call her ‘mom’? There were no moms here. Moms were- moms were good. That’s why they didn’t exist here. They watched the two hijabis support their mother’s shoulders as she panted for air on the floor.

“Sorry. I’m sorry. It won’t hurt, I promise. I have to find him,” they said. They took off down the hall, leaving Puteri calling out for them to stop.

“Mom, are you okay?” Nor asked.

“Fine, I’m fine,” she said as she stared at where the stranger disappeared.

Damia clicked her tongue. “That scientist wasn’t kidding. He really did… brainwash Roman, didn’t he?”

Puteri sighed and shook her head, the corner of her vision blacking out. She said with her final breath of consciousness, “I don’t think that was Roman, sweetheart.”

“What do you mean that wasn’t Roman? It looked just like him.”

Puteri opened her mouth to answer, but she lost her voice. Her head rolled to the side as darkness took her. Now all she could do was dream of the stranger they ran into.

“We have to get out of here,” a team member reminded them. They helped Nor and Damia pick up their mother, and the two of them supported her as they headed toward the outside. Eventually, they’d make it out. Eventually, they’d learn that Patton, Hobo, and JD were still inside. Rem’s absorption limit was almost reached, and his body started to crack and glow from sucking out so much energy. 

Claw glanced at their watch.

Nine minutes, 38 seconds.

They weren’t going to make it.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patton’s done waiting around and letting everyone else help while he’s stuck at home. He ends up helping, but not really in the way he thought he would.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Double chapter post today because I had to break Chapter 7 in half, or else you guys were going to have to dig through a 10K chapter :D  
\--  
Chapter warnings: implied past abuse, physical restraints, imprisonment, gore, blood, disturbing imagery, mentions of killing people used as a joke, physical torture, several mentions of loss of consciousness, self-depreciation, crying, off-screen involuntary clothing removal  
Word Count: 4,792

Patton pressed his back up against the linked fence. He slowed his breathing down and swallowed his nerves down. The others hadn’t noticed him as far as he could tell, which was good, because Janus would flip his lid if he knew what Patton was doing.

For a moment, Patton wondered if this was a good idea. Janus, from what he told him, was at this for at least ten years. He’d gotten almost everyone in DODNA out at some point, except for maybe a few like Thomas and Joan who came to help because it was the right thing to do. Well, Thomas soon would be added to that list, but he didn’t start out in IODNA.

If Janus told him he shouldn’t go, there had to be a reason, right?

Patton shook the thought away. No, he could help. He wasn’t some defenseless little kid waiting for his prince to come anymore. He proved that years ago when he met Roman. No one was going to save Patton unless he wanted it, Roman said. Patton had the power to control his fate, no one else, Roman said. You are worth more than your gifts, Roman said.

Patton made up his mind. He didn’t escape his moms so he could be hidden from the world again. He was going to save Roman, just like Roman saved him.

A loud pop echoed through the area as the power went out. Patton may have screamed. He covered his mouth and stilled his trembling body. If Roman was here, that would’ve sent him into a panic attack. For the first time, Patton was thankful Roman wasn't here. 

Patton sighed. Soon, he wouldn't have to imagine Roman doing anything. Soon, he would be able to apologize for abandoning him and letting him get stuck in this place for a whole year. Just a little longer, and he'd be free of guilt. 

Janus instructed his team members and stole their attention. Patton saw his chance. He slipped through the opening in the fence and darted across the clearing. Patton slid to a halt and pressed his back against the building. He watched as two teams separated and made their way inside.

Patton followed behind them before the door slammed closed.

No one managed to notice Patton slip behind some crates as they addressed each other. He held his breath and waited. Claw led one team while Puteri led the other. Patton prayed Puteri wouldn’t have an episode while she was here. He admired her strength more than anything.

The door to the room opened again, and Patton hid once again. A woman and a cat charged into the room, the woman constantly tripping over her high heels.

“What was he thinking?”

Patton listened, scolding himself for eavesdropping, but he couldn't help it. That had to be Janus, especially with the way he talked about Patton like a parent whose child wasn’t around. For a moment, Patton thought about revealing himself.

That was until Janus threw his high heels. They clattered on top of the box Patton hid behind. Patton covered his scream, and he calmed his nerves the best he could. Janus didn't mean it, he assured himself. Janus didn't know he was here. He didn't do it on purpose. He would never hurt Patton like they did, right? So, if that was true, why was Patton frozen in place? 

“Okay, new plan-”

Patton followed Hobo and Janus’s argument. Guilt started to rise more and more in his chest. How could he forget this mission wasn’t just about Roman? This Thomas person was in here too, and they waited so long to get him out. Maybe… maybe he should turn back now.

The voices stopped. Patton strained his hearing, but nothing made a sound. His heart pounded. Wait, Janus was going to look for him. He had to stop him before Janus got hurt!

Patton jumped out from behind the boxes and hurried out of the storage room. He looked left, right, and left again. Where did Janus run off to?

Patton went right, hoping his gut was pointing him in the right (ha) direction, and ran down the maze of hallways. That was a good joke. He'd have to use it later. 

The top floor of IODNA looked like any hospital. Its walls were clean. Its floors shined with pride. Its doors were polished with ‘get well soon’ signs and balloons and ribbons. Its counters were clean and inviting to anyone who stepped into its doors. No wonder no one ever believed the whistle blowers. 

Patton let out a long sigh. He rubbed his arms. What if Janus didn’t come this way? What if Patton was now lost? What if someone found him before Janus did? Or worse, what if someone found Janus before he did?

A feeling of sadness caught Patton’s attention. It was faint, but the hurt grew in strength the farther forward he went. Patton followed the feeling. Tears rose to his face, and he rubbed them away with his shirt sleeve. His travels brought him to a closed door, and Patton held his breath.

The room number didn’t have a name placed under it like the others.

Cautiously, Patton cracked open the door. He peered inside and held his breath. The sobbing grew louder, unaware of Patton’s presence. Patton invited himself in. 

His heart broke when he saw their condition. Tied down by a strap across their chest, wrists, and legs, this person really couldn’t do anything but cry. And what was up with the black tears? Were they… were they one of the people trapped here? Patton crept closer, but the person didn’t seem to notice he was here yet.

“Hey, are you okay?” Patton asked, his voice gentle.

The person stopped crying as if a switch lit. Their eyes opened, and Patton covered his mouth. Nothing but black stared back at him.

“Wh-who's there?” the person asked. “Please, just leave me alone.”

Patton wrung his hands together. “Hey, it's okay. I'm not here to hurt you. My name is Patton.”

“Patton?”

“Yeah, and uh, if you really want me to leave you alone-”

“No, wait. Why are you here? Who are you?”

Patton felt a new emotion taking over this person’s sadness. Dread. And Fear. And distrust.

“I’m here to-” Patton paused. “I’m trying to find a friend. Do you know anyone named Roman?”

“I never met anyone named Roman, no. I'm sorry.”

Patton’s heart dropped. “Oh. That’s okay. No worries, kiddo. I just… I’m sorry I bothered you.”

“No, it’s okay. You didn’t bother me.”

“What’s your name?”

“Mine? Uh, It’s- it’s Thomas.”

Patton’s heart pounded. “Wait, Thomas Sanders?”

“Yes?” Thomas’s eyes narrowed then widened as realization hit him. “You know who I am?”

“Of course! Thomas, we’re here to save you!”

Patton touched Thomas’s wrists to unbuckle the strap. His fingers began to tingle. Patton pulled them away and examined them. Were the straps electrocuted? No, that couldn’t be. The power was shut off, but why-

Patton watched as Thomas’s eyes started to clear up. The black slime crawled out of his vision, and Thomas blinked several times. Patton watched bright brown irises return, and the small cut on Thomas’s throat closed up. Patton must’ve been so lost in his euphoria that he healed Thomas and didn’t realize it. He waited for the telltale cut to appear on his neck.

Brown eyes slid down to Patton, and Thomas smiled. He said, “Oh, nice to finally see you.”

Patton let out a nervous laugh. He touched the straps again, noting that he did heal Thomas by accident when nothing happened, and worked as fast as he could to unlock the buckles on Thomas’s wrists. He then moved to Thomas’s chest and pulled that off. Thomas sat up, and he helped Patton untie his feet.

“So, Patton, is Damian here with you?” Thomas asked.

“Uh, sorta. He’s around here somewhere,” Patton said with a laugh. “He goes by Janus now.”

“Oh, okay then. And Joan? How about them?”

Patton blinked. “Yeah, Joan is here too.”

“Talyn?”

“You got it.”

“Cam?”

“Yup.”

“Quil?”

“The gang’s all here, I promise, Thomas.”

Thomas couldn’t help the smile that rose to his lips. He swung his feet over the side of the bed and stood. His balance tipped, and Patton caught Thomas around the shoulders before he could fall over.

“Sorry, I haven’t been, uh, up and walking in a while,” Thomas said.

“No worries, kiddo. I got you.”

Thomas got his balance back, and he stood up straight. “So, Patton, now what?”

“Uh,” Patton laughed. “Y’know? I didn’t really think about that. I wasn’t supposed… to find… you.”

“Oh?” Thomas rose a brow.

“Yeah, I was supposed to find someone else.”

“Well, that’s no problem. You can just radio Da-Janus on his walkie talkie, right?”

“I don’t have one.”

Thomas sighed. “Okay, that’s a bit more of a problem.”

“Don’t worry. I’m sure he’ll turn up somewhere. He always does.”

“Yeah.” Thomas hurried over to the door and opened it. He paused, and he glanced over his shoulder. “Patton, I have to go find someone before we leave. I can’t just leave him here.”

“Who?” Patton tilted his head.

“Remus. I was trapped here with him for four years. He’ll go- I can’t leave him alone. He has a hard enough time as it is, and I-”

“Say no more,” Patton said. “We can find him together.”

Thomas eyed Patton for a few moments before he nodded his head. He peeked out of the room and looked left, right, left, before hurtling down the hall. He didn’t know exactly which way Dr. Patrickson took him, but he could follow the black trail his eyes left behind.

Thomas stopped as he rounded the corner. Two scientists lay unconscious on the ground. Thomas ran over to them and slid the gasmasks off their face. No black tears lined their eyes. He put his fingers to their necks and focused.

“I think they’re just asleep,” he told Patton over his shoulder.

Patton breathed a sigh of relief.

Thomas continued, “But I’m pretty sure this was Remus’s work.”

“How do you know?”

“Because he can put people- he makes people breathe in dust that puts them to sleep.”

Patton hummed. “Well, that doesn’t sound too pleasant.”

“It’s not.” Thomas stood up and hurried down the hall with Patton on his heels. The farther they traveled, the more bodies they found in the halls. Some were asleep, some had bumps and bruises, and some had limbs bent at unnatural angles.

Patton couldn’t help but wonder just who they were dealing with here.

A loud crash caused both Patton and Thomas to jump. It sounded like part of the building collapsed. Patton grabbed onto Thomas’s turtleneck sleeve, and he swallowed hard.

“W-was that Remus too?”

“No, I don’t think so.”

Thomas and Patton carefully crept up the hall. As they turned the corner, they saw the next hallway had caved in. Blood pooled underneath the rubble, and limbs bent at unnatural angles from the wreckage like human tree branches. Patton covered his mouth in shock, but Thomas didn’t seem phased.

“No, he definitely couldn’t do something like this, at least, not in the real world.”

“The real world?” Patton questioned.

Thomas didn’t answer. He continued walking down the unblocked hall. “Well, we’re not going to be able to find him that way. I think the deep isolation area is down here, but I’m not really sure. Everything looks the same.”

Deep isolation? The real world?

Who on earth was this Remus person, and how dangerous was he?

Patton followed Thomas like a lost duck. Thomas turned down hallway after hallway, his eyes focused on the numbers above the doors. Did he know where he was going? Would they even find Remus after all this work? Patton’s heart started to pound. What about Roman? What if they didn’t find him? What about Janus? What if he was still searching for Patton? 

What if this was all for nothing? 

“Thomas, we… we should get out of here,” Patton said, his voice wobbling. “I know you want to find your friend, but I’m worried that-”

Patton bumped into Thomas’s back. Thomas’s body was stone-still, and Patton glanced around him.

At the end of the hall stood a dark shadow with a scary mask. The red lights made him look like a murderer. He stared back, his body as equally still as Thomas’s.

Patton couldn’t help his audible gasp. They looked just like Roman, but wrong. Their hair was too short. Their body was too thin. What… what did these people do to him? Patton covered his mouth, ready to cry. Thomas took a deep breath as well, but a relieved smile crossed his face.

“Remus,” Thomas called out.

“Remus?” Patton questioned. He stared at the man at the end of the hall. Remus? Were Roman and Remus the same person? If not, they looked awfully similar. Frighteningly similar.

The shadow- Remus- took a step forward. Then two. Then four. Then ran. Thomas hurried to meet Remus in the middle, leaving Patton confused at the end of the hallway.

“Thomas, I found you!” Remus cried out. The two of them crashed together. Remus picked up Thomas around the waist and swung him around in a circle. Thomas laughed as he pressed his forehead against Remus’s own. Remus’s voice shook as he asked, “Did they hurt you?”

“No, I’m fine,” Thomas answered. “What about you?”

“Who cares?” Remus answered. He brought his hands up and rubbed Thomas’s eyes with his thumbs. “They’re not black anymore.”

Thomas smiled. “I know. I found someone who could help me.”

Only then did Remus notice they weren’t alone. Remus clutched Thomas to his chest, his breathing starting to grow uneven. Black smoke puffed from his nose. Patton couldn’t help the whimper that escaped his lips as Remus’s protective anger overtook him. Okay, Remus was definitely _not_ Roman.

“You stay away from us,” Remus hissed. Patton took a step back.

“No, no, Remus, it’s okay!” Thomas reassured. “That’s Patton. He’s the one who helped me.”

Patton gave an awkward wave. Remus studied Patton for a few moments, deciding what to do next. In the end, Remus turned his attention back to Thomas, and he pressed his forehead up against Thomas’s again.

“I found you. Real or not real?” Remus asked.

“It’s all real,” Thomas responded. He pinched the edge of Remus's arm. “I promise, all of this is real.”

Remus let out a long sigh of relief. Thomas pulled his head back, and he took Remus’s cheeks in his hands.

“Remus, Patton’s gonna get us out of here. He’s going to set us free.”

“Free?”

“Yes, free. So you can see the real warm grass and the real blue sky and have real tea and- and- everything I’ve ever told you about.”

Remus stayed quiet for a while. His voice was barely audible as he asked, “I’m going to be free?”

“Yes,” Thomas answered. He let go of Remus, substituting his hug for holding onto Remus’s hand, and led him to the end of the hall. Patton resisted the urge to take a step back. Remus’s mask unsettled him in more ways than one, but he looked like a lost child following his older brother. 

“Free.”

“Yes, we’re going to be free.”

“Really?”

“It’s all real, Remus, I promise.”

“Patton! There you are.”

Patton jumped as a strange voice shouted his name. He turned his head and saw an angry scientist with a bobbing blonde bun charging toward them with no shoes on.

Wait, no shoes-

“Oh, hey Janus,” Patton said with a nervous laugh.

“Don’t you ‘hey Janus’ me.” Janus stormed up to him, standing a whole foot higher, and grabbed onto his shirt collar. “You and I are going to have a serious talk when we get back.”

“Janus.”

The mentioned man turned his head, and he sucked in a breath. “Thomas?”

Thomas smiled and nodded his head. “Long time no see, huh?”

Janus’s eyes settled on the person beside Thomas, and his brow furrowed. “Who the hell is that?”

“This is Remus,” Thomas introduced. Remus’s head tilted to the side, and Thomas continued, “Yes, Remus, a new friend. Just don’t go putting him to sleep.”

Janus’s eyes danced between the three of them before they finally settled on Patton. He rubbed his eyes with his index finger and his thumb, and he mumbled, “You know what? I don’t have the patience to ask. Have you seen Hobo around?”

“No,” Thomas shook his head, his stomach dropping like a lead weight. “I was hoping they’d run into us sooner or later.”

“I’m surprised and worried they didn’t,” Janus mumbled.

“Maybe they made it out already,” Patton responded. “Maybe they figured it was too late, and-”

The red lights flickered. Everyone held their breath as machines blinked to life, lights shifted from a blood red to a ghostly white, and locks on doors automatically clicked closed.

Shit.

“We have to go. Now,” Janus ordered.

“But what about Ro-”

“You did enough damage here today. Don’t throw Roman into the mix too.”

Patton flinched, and he looked down at his feet. Bitter tears rushed to his face, and he swiped them away. He mumbled out, “I was just trying to help.”

“Then help us. Stay the fuck home next time.”

Janus peeked around the hall edge, his eyes scanning for any sort of activity in them. Once he found the coast clear, he motioned for the three people behind him to follow. 

Hallway after hallway. Peek after peek. Close call after close call. Eventually, they made it to the storage room they started at.

“This is going to be the tricky part,” Janus whispered. Already, guards had swarmed the area. There were at least six between them and the doors. Janus turned his head to Thomas. “What can your friend there do?”

“His name is Remus,” Thomas said and puffed out his chest.

“Right, whatever, what can _Remus_ do.”

“I kill people,” Remus blurted out. Patton and Janus both blinked at him, one with horror and the other with mild amusement. Janus snorted before Remus mumbled in a softer voice, “Well, you asked.”

Thomas elaborated, “He has this dust- sleep dust- you know, that makes a person fall asleep. Then, if he touches their forehead, he can make them have nightmares until they, uh, you know.”

“Interesting,” Janus said with a nod of understanding. He rubbed his chin. “I wonder if we could get him up into the ventilation system and let him loose.”

“That sounds like fun,” Remus chirped.

“How are we supposed to get him in the vent system?” Thomas asked. “Worse yet, what if we lose him in the vent system.”

“You can go with him.”

Patton inhaled. “Guys-”

“Okay, sure, I can go with him. There are spiders up there. No thanks.”

“Spiders!” Remus chirped. “Hey, Thomas, remember when-”

“Guys!”

“Yes, Remus, I remember. You really don’t have to-”

Patton pushed Thomas. A dart lodged itself into the wall where Thomas’s head was. Remus swung his head around, an angry growl tearing from his throat. He saw a line of guards standing at the end of the hall with guns in their hand, and he charged.

“Remus, stop!” Thomas called out.

However, Remus was far from a listening mood. A dart shot. It lodged itself in Remus’s shoulder. He continued to charge. Another hit his shin. Remus stumbled, but he still continued. More and more darts fired, some missing, some not, but Remus’s mission was never deterred. He puffed out smoke from his nose, his hands reaching out to throttle the first person he touched.

The last dart in his stomach caused him to fall to his knees. He vaguely remembered Thomas calling out his name, and Remus moaned. He fell onto his side, his whole body going still.

Patton covered his mouth as Janus sucked in a huge breath. Already the guards who were at the storage door were rushing toward them.

They were trapped.

“Gentleman, I think there’s been a mistake,” Janus said as he tried to fix this. “My name is Angelica F. Knowles, and I’m escorting these experiments back to their rooms under the direction of Dr. Patrickson. I don’t need a man’s assistance to do a woman’s job.”

“That’s fascinating,” a voice purred to his left, “because Angelica Knowles was given the whole day off by yours truly.”

The boys’ attention shifted to the man walking toward them. His eyes narrowed as a devilish grin graced his face. His left hand clutched an animal carrier, which swung back and forth. A black and brown shadow growled from inside as a red light blinked from the collar around its neck.

“Shit,” Janus mumbled under his breath.

Dr. William paused, followed Janus’s line of sight, and rose the cage up to his eye level. He purred, “Oh, this? I found him wandering around the labs a few days ago. Been keeping a close eye on him while he was outside too. Is he yours? His collar says Hobo, or at least, that’s what I’ve heard his name was.”

Hobo let out a loud growl, and they leaped at the cage door. The cage swung, and their claws swiped out to scratch Dr. William. Unfortunately, the scientist pulled it away in time and laughed at their fruitless efforts.

Thomas stiffened and whispered, “Joan.”

“Joan?” Dr. William said as he raised a brow. “I could’ve sworn his name was Hobo. Oh well. I suppose most animals do have pet names. Hah, get it? Pet names?”

Thomas darted forward to get to Hobo. He made it three steps before he screamed, his hands flying to his head as he fell to his knees. His forehead pressed against the floor. Hobo’s angry yowl rattled his cage as he thrashed about.

Patton yelped as every ounce of Thomas’s pain rushed through his body. His knees buckled, and Janus steadied him around the waist. 

Janus’s head flashed over to Dr. William, and he growled, “Stop it.”

Dr. William did stop walking, but Thomas’s pain didn’t end. He took a deep breath through his nose, and he replied, “Why? You and I both know he can handle it.”

At this rate, a swarm of weapons all aimed themselves at the group. Janus’s eyes darted around, trying to figure out how to get out of this.

“You can lower your act, Damian. I know it’s you,” Dr. William said.

“Damian? Who’s she? Never heard of her.”

“Arrogant little brat. Just like your father.”

Janus swallowed his tongue and spat out, “Oh yes, do get me mad by comparing me to my dead father. A plus villainy right there.”

Dr. William’s eyes rested on Patton, and his eyebrow popped up. “Ah, I don’t think we’ve properly met yet. Who is the pretty blond boy you have in your hands?”

That did boil Janus’s blood, and he hissed a curse at the scientist through his teeth. Patton seemed to gather enough awareness that they were talking about him, and his head turned in the direction of Dr. William in terror.

Dr. William sighed. “No matter. I’ll find out eventually, don’t worry.” 

With a snap of his finger, darts fired from every direction. Janus tried to take the brunt of them, but he knew that eventually, one was going to hit Patton, and Patton didn’t have any fighting skills to get out on his own. His back hit the wall as he lost his balance, several needles shattering behind him. Patton let out a yelp as the two of them tumbled to the floor.

Dr. William towered over them, his lips drawn back into a sneer. He pushed Patton off Janus with his foot so he could see the terror in Patton’s eyes. He eyed Patton like he was gum underneath his shoe.

“Thank you for bringing this pain in the ass back to me.”

Patton opened his mouth to speak, but his words were lost. The world around him wobbled, and he could feel his body trying to work the sleeping solution out of his system, but it wasn’t working fast enough. Patton passed out, the last sentence of Dr. William echoing in his head.

He should’ve stayed home today.

* * *

Patton opened his eyes.

He was being carried. He didn’t know by who. All he knew was they were warm.

Patton closed his eyes.

* * *

Patton opened his eyes.

People were talking. He couldn’t understand them. His mouth was dry. Why couldn’t he understand them?

Patton closed his eyes.

* * *

Patton opened his eyes.

His neck was cold. Too cold. Something was there. He couldn’t tell what it was. 

Patton closed his eyes.

* * *

Patton opened his eyes.

At first, he couldn’t tell what he was sleeping on. It felt like a foam mattress, but someone else’s indent was etched into it like a memory. He sat up and rubbed his head. The world was still a bit dizzy, but he could tell his body was no longer fighting off whatever injection those darts gave him.

The room was rather clean, save for a bookshelf off to the side. There were no windows and one door. The floor was made of cold tile, and Patton reached his barefoot out to touch it.

Wait, barefoot? Wait! These weren’t his clothes!

Patton held his breath as he realized he was wearing white sweatpants and a white turtleneck. He looked down his shirt. A silver collar wove around his neck. His binder was gone, and in its place was a white sports bra. Patton almost threw up. He hugged his arms and let out a choked sob. Never before had he felt so violated. 

Patton’s feet padded across the floor. He didn’t know why, but he had to check and see if the door was locked. He turned the round handle to find it stuck. No surprises there.

Patton leaned his back against the door. He grabbed his hair in his hands and slowly sank down. He was in IODNA. He got himself caught. And what was worse? He got Hobo and Janus caught too. He was sure of it.

Patton didn’t know how long he cried on the floor. It felt like hours, but with no clock, he couldn’t tell. How could he be so stupid? How could he get all those people hurt? And why? Because he felt like he needed to be the hero. He snuffed. He wasn't a hero. He was just a whiny child who was only good at looking pretty and giving other people problems. 

After Patton was done throwing himself a pity party, he decided to explore the room he was trapped in. He walked over to the bookshelf and searched for any spiderwebs. After confirming it was just dusty, he skimmed his fingers across the titles.

_Moby Dick_

_Romeo and Juliet_

_Frankenstein_

_Hamlet_

_Pride and Prejudice_

These books must’ve been first editions with how much dust was on them. Patton snorted. He’d have to tell that joke to… someone later. A rock landed in his stomach. Would there even be a later?

A black box caught Patton’s eye, and he pulled it off the shelf. It looked like an old record player. Patton wondered if it still worked. He blew the dust off it and searched around for a record to put in. Thankfully, the whole bottom shelf was lined with them.

Patton pulled out a record on the end and removed it from its sleeve. He examined the name, which looked to be Italian if he had to guess. Luciano Pavarotti. He knew he heard of them before, but he didn’t know where.

Patton placed the disk on the record player and raised the arm. His eyes roamed the record player until he found the on switch. The record began to spin. Patton moved the needle down onto the edge of the record.

A beautiful voice flooded the room. Patton leaned back on the bed and used his hands to support himself. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. For a moment, he forgot he was trapped in a room with nothing but dusty books and a small record player. 

For a moment, Patton was sitting beside Roman in their apartment. Roman’s hands were carefully woven into Patton’s short hair, his own, long hair tied in a messy bun. Roman’s voice lulled him to sleep. Patton curled up, putting his own hand in his hair. He pretended the pillow was Roman’s leg, and he pressed his back against the wall. Maybe it was a lie, but he couldn’t help it.

Roman always did like Ave Maria.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> c:


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patton gets a visit from someone trying to convince him his whole life is a lie and is offered a deal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: manipulation, gaslighting, multiple abuse conversations, mentioned suicide, forced clothing removal, blood, torture, near character death, intentional misgendering galore  
Word Count: 4,713

The door handle to Patton’s room unlocked, and Patton’s eyes shot open. He sprung up into a sitting position, his head nearly cracking against the wall behind him, and hugged his knees defensively to his chest. He held his gaze on the door, hoping it wouldn’t open if he concentrated enough.

Unfortunately for him, he wasn’t telepathic.

The man who opened the door, Patton immediately recognized, was none other than Dr. William himself. Anger simmered in Patton’s stomach, and he swallowed the nasty remark rising through his throat.

“Good morning,” Dr. William greeted. His smile may have said friend, but Patton read danger in his eyes.

After waiting for Patton to respond and getting nothing, Dr. William continued, “I apologize for last night, but I… I had to be sure those fiends didn’t escape, and you were accidentally picked up in the crossfire. I’m glad you’re okay.”

Patton’s cold stare answered him. A nervous laugh escaped Dr. William’s lips, and he shook his head. “Wow, they really have you brainwashed, don’t they, kid?”

“What do you mean?” Patton finally chose to speak.

Dr. William stepped inside, and he closed the door behind him. For a moment, he didn’t turn to face Patton. Patton could feel the wheels turning in Dr. William’s head as he formulated a smooth lie to tell.

“Why, DODNA of course.”

Patton narrowed his eyes.

Dr. William went on to explain, “They’ve been trying to shut us down for years. You know, they don’t really like that we’re helping people, and-”

“You’re not helping anyone. You’re hurting people,” Patton snapped.

“Please, let me explain-”

“I’ve seen it. I’ve seen what you do to them. I’ve he- I’ve seen so many bruises and cuts and scrapes and broken bones to last me a lifetime, and they all came from here.”

“That’s their own fault,” Dr. William hissed through his teeth. He cleared his throat and regained his composure, “Patton, the only reason I hurt those people is because they tried to hurt innocent people.”

“That’s a lie.”

“It’s not. Trust me. I have been working hard for years to help people who need it, and all DODNA sees is me trying to control others.”

“Aren’t you?”

“No, of course not!” Dr. William ran a hand over his smooth silver hair. His voice regained a gentle tone. “What does IODNA stand for?”

Patton thought for a moment. He answered, “Institute of Outstanding Disabilities and Neurological Assessments.”

“That’s right. And what does that mean?”

“You’re trying to get rid of neurodivergence.”

“No, that’s not what I’m doing,” Dr. William said with a laugh. He shook his head. “No, I’m healing people. They come to me with nightmares, horrible PTSD, not able to control themselves and their urges, and I _help_ them. I have stopped pedophiles from thirsting over children, cleared several Nazi’s xenophobia, made triggers disappear, helped homophobic parents accept their children, helped _transphobic_ parents accept their children-”

Dr. William didn’t miss the jolted reaction Patton had to that last one.

“I’ve done everything I can to help people. What you see as-” he used finger quotes- “erasing neurodivergence, is me freeing people of their own minds. I’m not “fixing” autistic people. I’m not changing people’s sexualities, I’m doing this all with one thought in mind. Wouldn’t this world be a better world if we just accepted each other and lived with no trauma?”

Patton sighed and mumbled, “I guess so.”

“Exactly! That’s why I need your help,” Dr. William paused. “What is your name anyway?”

He hesitated for a moment before he responded, “Patton.”

“Patton. What a sweet name. Did you pick it yourself?”

“I did,” Patton said, his chest puffing up with pride. He recalled his chest and asked, “Where’s my binder?”

“Forgive us for being so brash, Patton, but we didn’t know how long you were in it. We didn’t want your body suffering any permanent damage from wearing it too long. I’m sure you’re aware of how dangerous it is.”

Patton’s head lowered a bit at that.

Dr. William continued, “I can have it returned to you as soon as it is retrieved from the wash. Consider it an apology for the way we treated you.”

Patton chased his thankful smile away and asked, “Where is Janus? And Joan? And Thomas and Remus?”

Dr. William sighed, and he crossed his arms. For a moment, he didn’t answer. Then, finally, he responded with, “Don’t worry, Patton. They can’t hurt you anymore.”

“They weren’t hurting me-”

“Lying to you all these years didn’t hurt you?” Patton recoiled, and Dr. William continued, “Think about it. This Janus person, do you even really know him at all? What _do_ you know about him?”

“Well,” Patton paused, “he’s… he helped me with my transitioning. He made me feel more like a man-”

“Ridiculous, Patton. You’re a man with or without his help.”

Patton furrowed his brows and ignored the interruption, “He’s my friend.”

“Is he though?”

“Yes.”

“Friends don’t lie to each other, Patton. Did you know that Janus used to work for us?”

“He told me he only did that to help people escape.”

“Wrong, Patton! He did that so he could sabotage everything. Janus doesn’t really care about people. He’s afraid of us. He’s afraid we’re going to get rid of powered people, but why would I want to get rid of people like me?”

“People like… you?” Patton mumbled.

Dr. William sighed. He walked closer to Patton, testing to see how close he could truly get. Patton slid into the corner of his bed and bared his teeth. Dr. William sat on the edge of the bed and folded his hands together. 

For a moment, he didn’t say a word.

The record player sprung to life on its own. Patton watched a record remove itself from the shelf, slide out of its sleeve and place itself on the record player. The needle moved to the edge.

After a crackle, the record player started to sing.

_We'll meet again_

_Don't know where, don't know when_

_But I know we'll meet again some sunny day_

Dr. William looked over at Patton, a sad smile on his face. He inhaled and exhaled, and he said, “I have a defect too, Patton. I was young, scared, and had no idea what I was doing. I hurt so many people by accident. Traumatized my mother by throwing a tantrum. Got beat by my father with a leather belt whenever I used it. Was called a freak most of my life. The 50s weren’t exactly kind to people who are different like you and me.”

Patton softened a bit. He could tell William’s story was true, and he chewed on his lip. “I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

“It’s not your fault, Patton. There’s no need to apologize.”

“Still,” Patton replied. He rubbed his arms. “I know what it’s like to be…”

“Abused?”

Patton flinched.

Dr. William nodded his head in understanding. “Parents should never raise a hand to their child.”

“They didn’t… hit me. They were… I guess I had nothing to complain about, really, but-”

“Patton, abuse is abuse. There’s no excuse for treating someone who is defenceless like that, especially when you’re a parent.”

Patton couldn’t help but smile. At least that was one thing Dr. William had right.

Dr. William continued, “I’m sorry you were treated like that, but now I’m giving you the chance to help others. We can fix parents. We can make them not hit their children, accept them for who they are, stop abuse. You could make sure no one suffers like that again.”

“I can’t do that,” Patton said with a bitter laugh. “I can heal broken bones and cuts and bumps and bruises, but I can’t erase people’s trauma.”

“But you can still help. The children, Patton, think of the children you could help. You could make sure they don’t spend weeks in the hospital recovering. Heck, you could bring someone back from the brink of death, I’ll bet.”

Patton couldn’t help but bitterly laugh at that. “I can.”

“That’s why you’re a powerful ally to us. Janus wanted to keep you from this, from your _true_ purpose. Patton, this is where you were meant to be. Not with them. What did they ever do but lie to you?”

Patton chewed on his lip and shook his head. He glanced up from his spot in the corner, and he responded, “You know, Dr. William, they weren’t honest with me all the time, you’re right. They did lie, they kept secrets, and they excluded me a lot.”

Dr. William’s smile widened.

“But…”

_”You don’t have to look like this, Patton. You can be you. I can make you the man you’ve always wanted to be, no strings attached. Just, please, don’t try to kill yourself again. I promise it’ll get better. Maybe not today, but eventually.”_

_“Did you really think being trans would make us stop being friends? Patton, I couldn’t care less if you are a man, woman, or purple spotted elephant. You are one of the best people to ever come into my life.”_

_”I don’t know what they told you, Patton, but the way they treated you, that isn’t normal. Moms are supposed to love you. They’re not supposed to do… that. You know what? That’s it. I’m your mother now. It’s too late, I’ve already adopted you and you can’t change my mind. You’re a Peters now, Patton.”_

Dr. William prompted, “But?”

Patton’s chest puffed as he spoke, “They accepted me for who I was. They taught me that no matter what my moms did, it didn’t define me, and that I was brave for not seeking vengeance. They told me that I didn’t have to use my gifts, because that’s what I have. It’s a gift, not a defect. They treated me like family, and they showed me what it was like to be loved, truly loved. They taught me the difference between protecting someone and possessing someone. They taught me how to tell if someone genuinely cares for you and if they really want what’s best for you or if they’re just feeding you a lot of bull.”

Patton stared straight into Dr. William’s eyes as he said, “And what you just told me is a lot of bull.”

The record player scratched to a halt.

Dr. William’s smile slipped away. He stood from the bed, and Patton pressed his back into the corner tighter. He didn’t make a move for Patton, but he did pull his walkie talkie out from his belt.

“Subject 501 refuses to cooperate. I want personnel here to immediately get her ready for defect testing.”

“He,” Patton corrected.

Dr. William turned to him with venom in his voice, “She. You don’t want to play pretend anymore? That’s fine with me. I’m done pretending to be nice.”

Patton recoiled, and he hugged himself tighter. “Please, I didn’t do anything to you. Why are you being so-”

“Mean?” Dr. William mocked a laugh. “Oh, poor little thing. DIdn’t you know that I couldn’t care less whether or not you help us willingly? I own you now, Macy.”

Patton’s eyes widened. “How… did you know-”

“Your old name? Your sweet brother Logan told me.” Dr. William grinned as Patton’s eyes widened. “They didn't tell you you have a twin that erased himself from your memory, didn’t they? And you still think you can trust them. What a naive fool you are."

The door to Patton’s room opened, and two scientists stood in the doorway. Dr William walked out and ordered, “Let me know when she’s ready. I need to know how long it takes for her to heal, because I need to know if sticking her in with Subject 240 is going to be worth it before I waste my time on another person who claims to have healing abilities.”

Patton tried to keep his dignity as they dragged him out of the room. However, with the way they kept pulling him, he stumbled and fell an awful lot.

The first thing they did was remove his shirt. Patton struggled to stop them, but they easily overpowered him. They abandoned the sweater on the floor and kicked it well out of Patton's reach. Next, they put Patton on a metal table and strapped him down. A doctor hovered over him, the light above casting them in a dark shadow. Patton struggled to pull free from the straps, but it only made the scientist pull the leather cuffs tighter. Patton yelped as the straps dug into his skin.

“Subject 501, Defect: Healing. Age: 27, Test #1. Subject is to go through a series of tests to monitor how long it takes for her to heal.”

“Him,” Patton growled.

The scientist clicked the machine off. They grabbed a tool from the table beside them, its blade glistening in the light. Patton couldn’t hide his small whimper of terror. He tried to pull away, but his body stayed stuck to the table. He asked, begged, pleaded for them to leave him alone.

The cut ran deep across his forearm. Fire lit throughout his entire arm, and Patton couldn’t help but scream. Blood ran down his arm and pooled under the table below him, sticking to his back and making a sick sucking sound against the table every time he squirmed.

The recording device clicked on again. “Subject was able to heal the cut on her arm within a minute and twenty-nine seconds. No data on blood rehabilitation at this time.”

“He,” Patton hissed through his teeth.

The scientist studied him for a moment before they walked away. Patton let his head rest against the table as he gulped air like water in a drought. 

Two.

Two more times they cut him open.

The first time was over a major artery in his arm.

The second time dug deep into his chest, dangerously close to his heart.

Patton could feel his consciousness slipping away. He didn’t know how much blood he lost, but he knew it had to be a fair amount. Spots replaced the bright light above him, and he struggled to keep his eyes open.

He couldn’t have predicted the scalpel running across his throat next.

Patton let out a scream. The pain swallowed his entire neck. His scream turned into a horrific gurgling choke. He could barely breathe. Beads of sweat lined his forehead, and he couldn’t comfortably swallow anymore. It felt like his throat completely closed up.

“Vital signs monitor is online,” he heard one of the scientists say.

“Good. Time how long it takes for her to heal and if she can do it before she passes out.”

Patton tried to correct his pronouns, but he couldn’t speak. All his throat did was weakly sputter. How could they all just be standing around watching like this was a television show while he was fighting for his life? Why would they try to kill him like this? His lungs burned. He needed to breathe! He needed help! He- oh- think… hard… Darkness crept at the corner of his vision. His heart struggled to keep a constant beat. For a moment, Patton wondered if he was truly going to die this time. 

Finally, after what felt like hours of torture, his throat closed up enough for him to breathe. He choked and struggled to swallow a breath. His hands tried to grab onto something to relieve the pain, but all his fingers did was scrape against the metal table. Breathing ripped his throat open again, but it healed a bit quicker this time. Patton tried to slow his breathing down to help his body heal faster. Bit. By bit. By precious bit. Breathe in. Hold. Breathe out. 

“Vital signs are returning to normal.”

“Hmm, three minutes and twenty-nine seconds. Notes: Subject can rapidly heal throat tissue even under the pressure of death. Still no data on how fast Subject regenerates blood. Theory to be explored further at a later date.”

Patton whined as he squeezed his eyes shut, letting the tears lining his eyes finally break free. His mind latched onto one thought, one bitter thought that choked him harder than the cut across his neck.

“Test: Passed.”

This was only the beginning.

* * *

Five whole days.

That’s how long Logan went without seeing anyone. The last time they saw another person, someone came to make sure they were still in their cell. Of course, they were. Where else would they have gone? They knew the power went out a few days ago, but Logan still couldn’t open the door. It was locked, after all.

Logan’s eyes drifted over to Roman’s empty cell. They wondered where Roman was right now. They hadn't seen him since Dr. William was kind enough to give them five hours together. They didn't know what happened to him, if he was okay, if he was cold and alone and unable to control his fate. All they could do was hope that the little memory Logan gave back to Virgil spared Roman in some way.

Logan never minded being alone before. However, after spending those six months with Virgil, remembering what a relationship with a human who cared about them was like, and eventually having Roman fuss over them day in and day out, alone started to bother them. 

Logan’s stomach growled. They finally caved and ate the stale sandwich and drank the water pressed under the small opening under their door. As much as they hated it, they were going to have to keep their strength up if they were going to exploit Virgil’s memories for IODNA’s own benefit.

They shuddered. When did their life become so compliant?

The room next to them flickered, and Logan’s attention turned to it. The light above Roman’s bed went out. Logan eyed it for a while until they sighed. They folded their fingers together and placed them to their lips. 

They hoped wherever Roman was, he was in as little pain as possible.

Logan laid down on their bed and stared up at the ceiling. The light above their bed didn’t flicker or blink. Instead, it burned into Logan’s vision. As they stared at it, they wondered if they could damage their vision enough to never see the faces of their victims again, especially if they were going to look like Virgil as they brought a memory back.

Footsteps down the hall held Logan’s breath. Was it time already? Were they going to take them to Virgil so they could force Virgil’s memories back? That was Logan’s punishment, after all, for leaving in the first place. It had to be.

The footsteps stopped outside their door, and Logan steeled themself for anything. The door handle turned, and Logan held their breath. As it opened, Logan saw two shadows standing in the doorway. One obviously belonged to Dr. William, but the one behind him was smaller, shifting their weight from foot to foot as if they were looking for an escape route.

It wasn’t Virgil. Virgil wouldn’t be nearly that nervous around Logan.

It wasn’t Roman. Logan doubted Roman could even stand right now.

So, who was it? Logan cursed the spots burned into their vision. 

The first thing they noticed was their short frame. Their skin was unbruised, pale either naturally or from nerves, and the white turtleneck and sweatpants hung rather loose on their body. Either that or they were well fed. From the outside hall’s shadow, they couldn’t get a good look at their face, but they couldn’t help but notice the tremor in their shoulders.

Dr. William stepped into the room with a wide grin on his face. He studied Logan with a glint in his eye that they hated. Logan swallowed. That only meant one thing, and it was never pleasant.

“Good morning, Logan. I hope you slept well,” Dr. William greeted.

Logan watched the person behind Dr. William for a reaction. Their lips mouthed Logan’s name. Great, someone else who knew who they were. How was Dr. William going to use this person against them exactly?

Dr. William continued, “I have a new friend I’d like you to meet, and if you could, I’d like you to do me a favor. No strings attached, no nothing.”

“There’s always a catch,” Logan’s scratchy voice replied.

“Not this time,” Dr. William answered. He paused. “Well, maybe one little catch.”

“I knew it.”

“Neither of you can leave unless you completely erase her memories. That should be pretty easy for you, right? Like riding a bicycle.”

Logan didn’t miss the bitterly whispered ‘his’ behind Dr. William's taunt.

“I already can’t leave. Did you forget I have been your prisoner for the past twenty-one years, soon to be twenty-two? And I was never taught to ride a bicycle, so theoretically it would be very hard for me to do.”

Dr. William laughed and shook his head. “You know, Logan, if you weren’t so funny I would’ve choked that spirit out of you years ago.”

Logan didn’t respond.

Dr. William turned and grabbed the person roughly by the arm. He yanked, and the person yelped as they were forced inside. Their balance failed, and they fell onto their hands and knees onto the floor. 

Logan held their breath.

“Have fun you two. And Logan, don’t leave one memory left,” Dr. Willaim said as he slammed Logan’s door shut.

The door’s echo pounded into the walls and Logan’s skull. They swallowed hard, but nothing moved. They choked on their breath and couldn’t take another gulp in. 

Logan recalled hastily scribbled drawings, drawing after drawing, so many that they almost covered the floor in white and charcoal.

Logan recalled striking blue eyes, kinder than anything Logan had seen in a while.

Logan recalled a bellyful laugh, a sincere smile, and butterfly kisses on boo-boos.

Logan recalled their ability to speak.

Of course it would end this way. Why wouldn’t it? Logan should’ve known any efforts they made to keep people around them safe were futile. First Roman, then Virgil, and now-

“Macy,” they breathed out.

The person flinched, and they spat out, “Don’t call me that! That’s not who I am.”

The harshness took Logan back a bit, and they fumbled their lips for the right words to say. Eventually, they replied, “My apologies. I didn’t mean to offend you.”

The person sighed, ran a hand through their hair, and mumbled, “No, I’m sorry. You didn’t know.” They crossed their legs and sat on the floor, their blue eyes studying Logan like a wary animal. 

Logan opened their mouth to speak, but the person beat them to it.

“My name is Patton,” they said- _he_ said if Logan remembered correctly- “and I don’t go by that name anymore.”

“My apologies, Patton. As I said, I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“No, it’s not your fault. It’s just- I have been misgendered for the past five days and-” a bitter watery laugh- “it gets to you after a while, you know?”

“I completely understand,” Logan replied. “They refuse to address others in an androgynous way as well, myself included.”

“Well, that’s a 25 cent word there, kiddo. Mind telling me what it means?”

Logan’s lips quirked as they cleared their throat. “Androgynous. Having both properties of the male and female gender. Though, I suppose agender would be a more suitable word to describe me, as I am neither male nor female.”

“Oh, non-binary then?” Patton’s lips spread into a gentle smile. “I know a few people who are like that too. They were- uh- they’re really nice.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” Logan responded.

The conversation lulled, leaving the two to awkwardly tap their legs and chew on their lips to chase away the silence. Patton ran a hand through his hair and took his glasses off for a moment. He breathed a shuddering breath in, and he released it seconds after. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I didn’t mean to get you into this.”

“On the contrary, Patton, I chose this many years ago. In all honesty, it was to… to keep you from suffering the fate we are currently suffering.”

Patton’s head snapped up at that, and his mouth hung open. He searched for the right words to say before he whispered, “So, it’s true. You… you really are my twin.”

“I am indeed,” Logan responded.

“I- I can’t believe it. I thought- you know, when Damian- when Janus- I… you’re Logan Shea. You’re here, and I… I finally get to meet you after all these years.”

Logan couldn’t help their sad smile. “Indeed, though I wish it was under better circumstances.”

“I had so many questions,” Patton said, his shoulders shaking as a laugh bounced around the room, “but I can’t seem to remember a gosh darn one.”

“Well, according to Dr. William, we have an infinitesimal amount of time.” Logan blinked. “Why do they want me to completely wipe your memory, Patton?”

Patton took a deep breath in, and he rubbed his knees with his hands. He sighed and finally responded, “Ya know, kiddo, it’s an awfully long story.”

“I have time.”

Patton glanced up and met Logan’s eyes. His shoulders sagged, and he nodded his head. Then, with a deep breath, Patton poured out his entire life history.

He explained how he met Roman, how Roman saved him from their mothers, and how Patton became Patton.

He explained how they were attacked, and Roman took Patton to his mother, where Patton learned about IODNA and how horrible it was.

He explained how there was a secret organization bent on shutting IODNA down, the Defenders of Defective Natural Abilities, or DODNA as they were affectionately nicknamed.

He explained how he allowed two members of DODNA to be captured because of a careless mistake.

“And now, they want you to erase my memory so I’ll work with them without any fuss,” Patton finished, his eyes meeting Logan for a reaction. He expected everything except- Patton recoiled- Logan was furious.

This… this must’ve been why they muzzled Roman. They didn’t want Roman telling Logan anything about Patton or an organization bent to get them out. They didn’t want to give Logan hope. Logan’s blood boiled. All that torment, all that torture, and it was to keep Roman quiet and nothing more. All this time, Logan thought they were the one being tortured, but it was really Roman’s inability to communicate to Logan meant to torture Roman himself as he listened to Logan’s own monotonous drone about how all hope was lost.

Logan’s fists choked the air out of their blankets, and they did their best to breathe.

“That was quite the story,” Logan said.

Patton nervously laughed and wrung his hands together. “I know. And it’s all my fault that-”

“No, do not blame yourself for their cruelty. Trust me, Patton, it will not get you anywhere and will only be used as a tool against you.”

Patton’s eyebrows furrowed. Logan spoke that like a person who experienced it, and Patton couldn’t help the wave of pity that pressed into his gut.

“I’ll try not to,” Patton answered.

Logan slid over on the bed and patted the side of it. They looked at Patton expectantly, asking with their eyes if Patton would get off the cold floor and join them. Patton looked hesitant at first, but he soon stood and joined Logan on the bed. It dipped down under his weight, and Logan recalled the last time someone else sat on their bed. They blinked their heartache away.

“So,” Patton said as he swung his legs back and forth, his toes ghosting over the floor, “why’d you do it? Why did you give yourself up for me all those years ago?”

Logan sighed. They looked away and tried to find the right words. A warm hand placed itself on theirs, and Logan reflexively looked. Patton gave their hand a gentle squeeze, and his smile could’ve lit up a thousand chandeliers. 

“Well, Patton, it’s a long story.”

“I’ve got time.”

Logan sent a half smile, and they cleared their throat. This was the last memory they ever wanted to tell, but they supposed if anyone should hear it, it should be… Patton.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a story about sacrifice, about doing something selfless for the ones you love. This is about mistakes, about false promises, and about dealing with the cards you've been dealt with. But most importantly, this is a story about Logan and Patton, and how they came to be here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: emotional abuse, manipulative step-parent, victim blaming, gaslighting, broken bones, blood, lots of anti-LGBT+ talk (this takes place in the 1990s) including homophobia and transphobia, parent death mention, husband death mention, this chapter’s long so let me know if I missed anything  
Word Count: 8,162 (I told you)

** _...Twenty-one years ago, soon to be twenty-two…_ **

Logan jumped as their bedroom door opened and slammed closed. They heard the giggles before they saw the blond curls hurtle onto their bed. Logan bounced, holding their book as still as possible as the bed jostled.

“Look what I got!”

Brown fudge forced itself under Logan’s nose, and they noticed the distinct smell of chocolate. They eyed their twin next to them, catching his satisfied grin, and sighed.

“Patton, I hope you didn’t steal that off the table while Miss Nikki wasn’t looking,” Logan mumbled.

“Mmmhmm,” Patton replied. He pressed up against Logan’s side, their bodies fitting together like a puzzle piece, and set the fudge in his lap. 

“You know we’re not allowed to have sweets,” Logan mumbled.

“I know.”

“Besides, you never get in trouble for stealing food. It’s always me.”

“Well,” Patton picked up a piece of fudge and shoved it into Logan’s open mouth. “Might as well make it worth it, right?”

Logan nearly choked. They struggled to chew, but they eventually stopped hurrying and enjoyed the flavor. For a moment, the two twins sat in the silence of their fudge munching company. Logan swallowed, and they stared at the chocolate fingerprints they left behind on the library book nestled between their legs. They wrinkled their nose.

"Aww, I'm sorry Lo," Patton mumbled as he looked over their shoulder. "I didn't mean to make you ruin the book."

"It's alright, Patton. I'm sure the librarian will be okay with it. He's really nice."

Patton pulled his legs up to his chest and rocked back and forth on the bed. He tilted his head to the side and asked, "Logan, do you like the library better than home?"

Logan looked at him and blinked. Their too big glasses slid down their nose. "What kind of question is that?"

"It's just," Patton bit his lip. "You always go there when we go to the park to play. You never stay with me."

"Miss Nikki and mom do not care where I go," Logan mumbled.

"But I do. I want to play with you too."

"Then come to the library with me."

Patton wrinkled his nose, "I can't read."

"They'll teach you. There's this really nice boy named-"

"Logan! Where is my fudge."

Both Patton and Logan went quiet. Logan heard footsteps on the stairs. In a panic, they shoved their library book under their pillow. They barely flipped back over in their spot before the door to their room flew open.

The woman standing in the doorway was thin, too thin, like a skeleton came from the closet and grew skin. Her sharp blue eyes cut right through Logan, and Logan could feel all the strength leaving their body. They swallowed hard. 

"I knew it," she continued with a click of her tongue. "You little pig. You know you're not allowed to have sweets. It's going to rot your teeth out of your head, and then we're going to have to take you to the dentist so they can take all your teeth out and all you'll have to eat is jello."

Logan's throat dried out at the thought.

"I did it," Patton piped up beside them. "I took the fudge. I-"

"Sweetheart, please stay out of this," Nikki said with a sigh. 

"But Miss-"

"You're both lucky I'm in a good mood, or I'd say no supper since you both decided to gorge yourself on fudge. Next time, you might not be."

The door slammed shut. The only sign of life in the house was the pounding of both Logan and Patton's hearts. Neither of them dared to move.

Patton sniffled, and he wiped a tear from his eyes. He licked the last bit of chocolate off his lips and took jagged breaths in.

Logan pressed their back deeper into their pillow. They watched as Patton broke down beside them. Not really sure what else to do, they pressed their shoulder into Patton's shoulder. If anything, perhaps it would allow Patton to know someone was here for him. Patton looked over at Logan, a weak smile on his face, and rested his head on their shoulder.

"I'm sorry," Patton mumbled.

Logan thought for a moment before they answered, "You're right, Patton. The fudge was worth it."

Patton giggled. He sighed, and a solemn expression settled on his face. He glanced up at Logan and asked, "Do you ever think she'll be nice to you?"

"I don't see why she would," Logan mumbled. "I'm not her child."

"You are too," Patton pouted. "And she should be a nicer mom."

"I wonder though, Patton, if she'd be nice to me if I weren't a boy. She seems to like you-"

"No, don't you say that. It's okay you're not a girl. Miss Nikki is just mean."

Logan's lips quirked a bit at that. They sighed, and they pulled the book they were reading out from under their pillow once again. Their fingertips smoothed out the corner of the book, which dogeared from being shoved under the pillow. Patton leaned in and read the cover. His cheek squished against Logan's side, and he took a deep breath in. 

"So, what is so magical about these treehouses anyway?"

Logan's lips quirked into a smile. Of all the things they and Patton did together, they enjoyed reading out loud the most. Judging by the way Patton focused on the letters he couldn't read, they guessed Patton loved it too. Logan opened the book to the first page, smoothed out the center, and cleared their throat.

"Chapter one…"

* * *

_“Patton, are you alright?”_

_“Yeah, I just… headache.”_

_“We can stop.”_

_“No! No, I want to know. What happened. What really happened.”_

_“Are you sure?”_

_“Yes. Please keep going.”_

* * *

“Mommy, can we please go to the park today? Pleeeeease?” Patton begged as he pulled on his mom’s pants leg. 

His mom looked down at him, a permanent tired expression contrasting the softness of her brown eyes, and smiled. After a moment, she answered, “Only if you eat all your carrots at lunch.”

Patton wrinkled his nose. He pressed his forehead into his mom’s thigh. “But I don’t like carrots.”

“I thought you loved carrots.”

“No. I like ranch dip.”

His mom laughed, a sweet sound that floated around the room. It made Patton smile, and he thought for a moment.

Patton continued, “Mom, does Miss Nikki hate Logan?”

Patton’s mom stopped laughing. She looked down at her son and sighed. A hand brushed through Patton’s curls as she answered, “She loves Logan very much, baby.”

“Then why is she so mean to them?”

“She’s not mean. She’s just… warming up to them. She’ll get there. Nikki was hurt very badly by another boy, and… and sometimes she looks at Logan the same way. She’s getting better, I promise.”

Patton sighed and pressed his head against his mom’s leg. He looked over at the doorway where Logan stood just out of earshot. Their eyes studied the situation, and they turned to walk away.

“Logan, wait,” Patton called out.

Their mom’s head snapped up, catching Logan in the doorway. She swallowed and strained a smile. “Logan, sweetheart, good morning.”

Logan froze in place. They turned back around to face their mom and Patton, a cautious expression greeting the two of them. Finally, they responded, “Good morning.”

Their mom sent a tired smile. Logan could tell it was forced. They sighed and returned to walking toward the stairs.

“Wait, Logan,” their mom called out, “How about I take you two to the park? I know I could sure use the fresh air.”

“It rained today,” Logan mumbled.

“I thought Miss Nikki told us to stay inside,” Patton added.

Their mom chewed on her lip before she responded, “Miss Nikki’s not home right now though, is she?”

Patton bounced on his toes and let out a long squeal. “I’ll go get my rain boots!” He darted out of the room, past Logan, and half-ran half-tripped up the stairs.

The kitchen clock counted how long Logan and their mom stood in awkward silence.

“Lolo,” their mom said, making them flinch. They looked up and fixed their glasses. Their mom sighed through her nose, and she shook her head, “Don’t lie to Patton. Nikki and I love you very much.”

“I didn’t lie to Patton,” Logan said and puffed out their chest. “What makes you think I lied?”

“Patton said you thought Nikki hated you, and that’s just not true, sweetheart.”

“Patton didn’t say that. I was there. I heard the whole conversation. Why is it my fault Patton thinks that?” Logan snapped.

“I didn’t say it was your fault.”

“You did so! You just told me not to tell Patton that.”

“That’s not what I meant,” their mom paused. She hesitated before she added, “Just try to give Nikki a chance, please? I know it’s been rough, but we’re all trying to figure things out. It’ll get better, I promise.”

Logan looked at their feet. Their mom knelt down as well and ruffled their hair. Somehow her touch never brought Logan the comfort they desperately wanted. After pushing Logan’s glasses up their nose, she placed a small kiss on their forehead.

“I love you very much. Please don’t forget that.”

Logan looked up at her, their blue eyes searching for a lie. When they didn’t respond, their mom stood and marched to the kitchen sink. Logan watched her start to do the dishes, something they knew she did when she was stressed out, and shook their head. How could their mom not see what was going on? How could she keep making excuses? How could she ignore how Miss Nikki came home smelling of booze and slamming doors and screaming? How did all that get better? They couldn’t understand, and a small part of them didn’t want to.

Patton’s footsteps pounded down the stairs. He jumped over the final step. The carpet at the bottom slid. Patton yelped as his feet slipped out from underneath him. He fell and cracked his head on the bottom step.

“Patton!” Logan yelped. They ran over to their brother’s side. Patton wasn’t moving. They noticed the small amount of red leaking onto the stairs, and they chewed their bottom lip.

“Logan, what happened?” their mom asked. She covered her mouth and crouched down at Patton’s side. “Patton, baby, can you hear me?”

Patton didn’t move.

Logan looked from their mom to Patton and back again. They jumped up to grab the house phone, and their mom held onto their wrist. Logan snapped their head back.

“Mom-”

“He’ll be okay, sweetie. He always is.”

“But he’s hurt!”

“Logan, you can’t call the hospital. They’ll find out about Patton, and then they’ll take Patton away from us. Please.”

Logan watched her for a moment. Then, they slipped out of her grip and jolted forward. Their mom jumped up as well. She wrapped her arms around Logan’s chest and held them still.

“Let go! Let me go!” Logan screamed. They kicked. They hit. They pinched. They bit.

Their mom sat on the floor, holding Logan close to her chest. She shushed them as she struggled to keep them still. Her grip wasn’t tight enough to hurt, but Logan still couldn’t pull away from it.

“I know, sweetheart, I know,” she kept repeating over and over. Logan’s struggles started to weaken, and they settled on crying in frustration. Their mom pulled their head close, rocking them back and forth. She laid another kiss to their forehead. “I know, baby. I know.”

A light whine stilled both Logan and their mom, and they turned to Patton. Patton, who sat up and rubbed the back of his head. Patton, who yelped when his fingers came back crimson. Patton, who turned to them with such fear in his eyes begging for help that Logan couldn’t help but try and struggle to get out of their mom’s grip again.

Their mom let them go, and Logan flew to Patton’s side. They swiped at the back of Patton’s head and noticed the huge red stain on the stairs.

“Logan,” Patton said, turning to them with tears in his eyes. His lips searched for something, anything, to say, but all he could do was cry.

Logan looked back at their mom, who finally realized she was the adult and came over to check on her son. She pulled back Patton’s hair, noticing how he flinched as she parted it.

“Are you okay, baby?” she asked. Her thumb brushed over the bump on Patton’s head, and he yelped and pulled away. She sighed. “Maybe we shouldn’t go to the park today after all.”

“But mom,” Patton whined. He turned to her and added, “I’m okay, really. I’m healed.”

“No, Patton, I don’t want you getting hurt anymore today.”

Patton turned to Logan, desperately asking for backup. Logan stared at him for a while before they sighed through their nose. “Maybe mom’s right, Patton. I don’t want you hurt either.”

Patton’s pout turned into a scowl. He stood, stomped his foot on the ground, and shouted, “It’s always my fault we can’t do anything fun! It’s not my fault I got hurt. I just wanted to have fun!”

Patton turned on his heel and ran up the stairs. Logan and their mom watched as Patton turned the corner and slammed the door shut. Even the door couldn’t muffle Patton’s loud sobs.

Their mom stood and sighed, smoothing out her shirt. Her eyes lingered on the stairs for a moment before she headed back for the kitchen.

“Mom?”

She turned. “Yes, sweetheart?”

“Why won’t you take Patton to the hospital? Hospitals help people.”

“Yes, I know, but they also hurt people, Logan, and they will definitely hurt Patton.”

Logan tried to process their mom’s words, but she disappeared into the kitchen without another sound. They stood and stared up the stairs. Not making any noise, they took step by step up to their room. The closer to the room they got, the louder Patton’s tears sounded, and the heavier their heart became. They stood at their closed door and hesitated.

After three knocks, they asked, “Patton, can I come in?”

They waited.

“Patton?”

After a forced choke of a sniffle later, Patton mumbled, “Come in.”

Logan took a deep breath and turned the door handle. They crept inside.

Patton had a pillow cradled to his chest. His blue eyes peered over the top of the tear-stained pillow, and his shoulders shook from trying to hold in his tears.

“Patton,” Logan said from the doorway. Patton’s hand reached out for them, his fingers making a grabby motion, and Logan entered the room fully. They sat on the bed, and Patton traded the pillow for Logan’s arm.

“It’s not fair,” Patton mumbled. “She said we could go. Why can’t we go?”

Logan sighed and responded, “She doesn’t want you to get hurt.”

“But I can’t get hurt! I know I fall a lot, but I always get better.”

Logan paused. They remembered their mom’s words, and they sighed. A bitter frown folded their lips down, and they rested their head against Patton’s blond curls. 

Patton’s voice mumbled, “We should go anyway.”

Logan jolted at that. They looked over at Patton and replied, “You can’t be serious.”

“Of course not. I’m Patton, silly!”

Logan groaned.

“But we should go anyway.”

“But mom said-”

“The park isn’t that far. We can walk.”

“Patton, it’s too dangerous. What if mom finds out? Or worse, what if Miss Nikki finds out?”

“So?” Patton shrugged. “I really don’t care what they think anymore. I wanna go to the park.”

“Patton-”

“And you’re not going to stop me.”

Logan sighed through their nose. They had to admit, Patton’s spirit fascinated them. Once Patton was committed to an idea, he committed. There was no in between, and no danger was too great as long as he got what he wanted. Logan flopped back against the pillow behind them, and they took a deep breath.

“I won’t.”

“Good.”

Logan hesitated. “And I’ll come too.”

Patton squealed and wrapped his arms around their shoulders. Logan recoiled, but they relaxed seconds later in Patton’s hold.

“Good thing I didn’t take my rain boots off,” Patton chirped as he swung his legs over the bed. “Come on, Logan. We’re going to go have fun!”

* * *

_“Patton, are you sure I shouldn’t stop?”_

_“No, no, keep going. It’s just… I don’t remember you saying any of that.”_

_“I know.”_

_“It was-”_

_“Damian, I know, but you have to believe me, Patton. What I’m telling you is real.”_

_“I…”_

_“I can only imagine based on my own experience how they treated you and your memories, but I swear I’m not lying to you, Patton. I changed your memory to protect you.”_

_“I guess so.”_

_“Maybe we should-”_

_“No! No, I told you, I want to remember.”_

_“A break then?”_

_“... no, I’ll be okay. Please, keep going.”_

_“..If you’re sure.”_

* * *

It finally finished raining that day. The sun rose high in the sky, raising the temperature to an uncomfortable hot autumn day. Patton jumped in the nearly evaporated puddle staining the pavement, and in turn, ended up making Logan’s shoes wet. They let out a low groan, and Patton apologized, but nothing else came from it.

A few parents in their neighborhood said hello to them. They didn’t ask where their mothers were. They all knew by now. Patton and Logan showed up at the park a lot by themselves, often unsupervised, so the parents took it upon themselves to watch out for the rogue children.

Logan sat on a bench next to a man reading the newspaper. They kicked their feet back and forth and folded their fingers in between each other. The man peeked over his newspaper for a moment, smiled, then went back to his business.

“Morning, Logan,” the man greeted while keeping his attention on the black and white ink.

“Morning, Mr. Sanders.”

“I thought for sure you’d be in the library by now. Thomas loves to hang out with you.”

“I’m watching my brother.”

“What a big child you are. As long as your mom knows you’re both out.”

Logan stayed silent at that. If Mr. Sanders was suspicious, he didn’t say anything. 

After a moment, Mr. Sanders continued, “I can watch your brother for right now. Why don’t you go have fun at the library? I’ll tell him where you went if he asks.”

Logan looked up at the man with wide eyes. Kind eyes smiled back behind round glasses, and a giddy burst of energy pushed Logan off the bench. They thanked Mr. Sanders before running off toward the library.

The double doors greeted them like an old friend. People sat on swivel chairs and caught up on their favorite series. Some college students whispered to each other as they researched. A man fought with the dial-up internet for a minute before giving up and going to complain. Logan ducked past everyone and headed toward the children’s section. The children’s section, while not Logan’s favorite area of reading, did house one of their favorite people. Logan bounced up to Thomas and poked his shoulder.

“Oh, Logan,” Thomas said as he put his book down on the table next to him. He smiled at Logan and continued, “Good morning, kiddo. You sleep well?”

“Thomas, you are only four years older than I am.”

“I know, but you’re still younger.”

“I would prefer if you didn’t call me that.”

“Oh, okay Lo. Hey, did you finish the Magic Treehouse book yet?” 

“Not yet. I was hoping to finish it this morning, but… I wasn’t able to.”

“Oh, it’s okay. Hey, we can sit down and read together if you want. I know there’s a story right now that you’d absolutely love. It’s brand new.”

“Oh? What’s that?”

Thomas fished around in his bookbag. He pulled out a peculiar hardcover book with a boy on a broom on the cover.

“Is that a witch?”

“Uh, sort of. He’s a wizard, and his name is-”

“Harry Potter, I’m sure. I read the title.”

Thomas snorted, and he ran his fingers over the raised cover title. “I just thought, you know, you would kinda relate to Harry. He’s not treated very nice by his family, he wears glasses, his dad- uh- well he’s adopted.”

“I wouldn’t mind if you assisted me in reading it,” Logan responded.

Thomas scootched over on the chair, and Logan slid in next to him. Thomas passed the book over, and Logan adjusted their too big glasses to read. They cleared their throat and started.

“Chapter 1: The Boy Who Lived…”

Logan didn’t know how long they sat next to Thomas and read, but the next thing they heard were sirens. Thomas and Logan’s attention both snapped up. People all throughout the library walked toward the door, their noses leaving prints on the glass as they tried to get a better view.

An ambulance parked itself next to the park, and a stretcher lifted from the back. Logan’s heart jumped into their throat. They pushed past the people, ignoring Thomas as he yelled for Logan to come back, and raced through the door. Their heart pounded along with their feet.

As they slid to a halt in the grass, their worst fear came true. Patton, their Patton was on the ground, cradling his arm and screaming. Mr. Sanders was next to him, as was another boy who must’ve witnessed the whole thing because his eyes were huge and his skin super pale. The paramedics examined Patton’s arm before safely loading him onto the stretcher.

“Logan!” Mr. Sanders called out. Logan couldn’t move. Mr. Sanders walked over to them, knelt down, and put a hand on Logan’s shoulder. “It’s gonna be okay, kiddo.”

“What happened? Why does Patton’s arm look like that?” Logan asked.

Mr. Sanders thought for a moment. “I think a kid fell on him and he broke his arm, but it’s going to be o-”

“No! They can’t take him. They can’t!” Logan screamed as they pushed past. They grabbed onto the end of the stretcher and pulled. Of course, it didn’t do any good, but they tried. Mr. Sanders held onto Logan as Patton was pushed away from them. They couldn’t get Patton’s terrified expression out of their memory.

“Logan, they’re going to help him, I promise,” Mr. Sanders said.

“No! They’re going to hurt him. I can’t let them do that.”

“Why would they hurt your brother? Who told you that?”

“Mom did!”

Mr. Sanders chewed on his lip. He nodded his head in understanding and sighed through his nose. “Okay, buddy. Why don’t you and I drive to your house and let your mom know what happened?”

Logan swallowed. Telling mom meant telling Miss Nikki. Telling Miss Nikki meant being blamed for all this. They were not looking forward to that at all, but they knew they couldn’t hide this. Too many people were involved now.

“Okay,” Logan mumbled as they followed Mr. Sanders into his car.

\--

“How could this happen? How could you be so careless that you let two six-year-old children walk to the park by themselves? What kind of mother are you! I swear, you’re the most incompetent-”

“Nikki, please-”

“No, don’t you Nikki please me. Because of you, they’re going to know Patton’s-” Nikki lowered her voice- “they’re going to know about Patton’s condition. They’re going to take him away, just like I said they would.”

Logan watched their mom break down, a hand pressed to her lips. She hugged her free arm close to her chest to try and offer some comfort. Nikki sighed, and she pulled Logan’s mom close. She kissed the top of her forehead and rested her chin on her head. 

“I’m sorry, baby. I didn’t mean to yell. I’m just scared.”

“I know. I forgive you.”

Logan mumbled under their breath, “You always forgive her but she still does it.”

Nikki’s eyes snapped down to them, and they tried their best not to recoil. However, those sharp blue eyes cut through them every time, and they looked away.

“And where were you?” Nikki snapped. “Why weren’t you watching Patton? Better yet, why didn’t you stop him from going in the first place? I thought you were the smart one.”

“Nikki-”

“No, they’re just as much to blame as you are, Sarah. It was probably their idea in the first place, wasn’t it? You wanted to go to the library so badly that you convinced Patton to go, didn’t you? I know all your tricks.”

“Nikki, that’s enough.”

“I bet I’m right. So, where were you, Logan? Were you in the library when it happened?”

Logan lowered their head. Tears burned the edge of their eyes, and they whimpered. With a pit growing in their stomach, they slowly nodded their head.

“Unbelievable. Unbelievable! I knew it!”

Logan met their mother’s eyes. They could see her trying not to accuse them, but something in the back of her gaze convinced Logan she was blaming Logan too. Why wouldn’t she? After all, Logan did leave Patton alone, and it was their fault that Patton got hurt. If they would’ve told Patton no-

“Mrs. Shea?” one of the doctors said as she walked out of the hospital rooms. The doctor motioned for her to follow. Both Nikki and Sarah started to walk forward, but the doctor held out her hand. “I’m sorry, Ma’am, but I only want to talk to Patton’s mother.”

“I am his mother.”

“His _legal_ mother.”

Nikki puffed out her chest but obeyed, leaving Logan alone with a woman who very much didn’t like them. They tried not to pay attention to her, but she kept staring at them. Logan’s ears burned with embarrassment. They wished they brought that book Thomas and they were reading.

“Excuse me, but I’m looking for Patton Shea’s room.”

Logan’s head snapped up. They caught a man standing at the receptionist’s desk, his large black suit and bowler hat rather out of place on such a warm day.

“I’m sorry, sir, but Patton Shea is only cleared for immediate family right now.”

“I’m his father, Julius Shea.”

Logan’s eyes widened. Julius was indeed their father’s name, but that was impossible. Julius Shea was... gone. Long gone. But the man standing in front of the desk looked just like him. How? Was he a ghost? Was he here to haunt them all for letting Patton get hurt?

Logan caught the man’s eye. They stayed stuck on each other for a long moment before the man motioned for Logan to come over. Logan glanced at Nikki before sliding off their chair.

“And where do you think you’re going?”

“Um, I have to pee.”

Nikki rolled her eyes and made a disgusted noise in the back of her throat. Logan hurried over to the man at the desk.

“This is my child, Logan. They're Patton’s twin.”

Logan blinked before greeting, “Uh, salutations.”

The receptionist smiled at them, and she said, “Well, what a big word for such a little child.” Logan’s ears burned in embarrassment once again. “Patton is in room 383 if you want to go see him.”

“Thank you,” the man said with a nod. He took Logan’s hand and walked them toward the elevator. 

“Who are you?” Logan asked at last.

“Logan, it’s me. It’s Damian.”

“Falsehood. You are not Damian. Damian is-”

Logan watched as the man’s appearance shrunk, clothes flopping around his body, and in his place stood a boy around Logan’s age.

“It is you,” Logan said with their mouth hung wide open. “How did you do that?”

“The same way your brother healed my arm. We’re both mutants, you know, like the X-men.”

“Fascinating. Wait, Patton healed your arm?”

Damian’s head lowered. He answered, “Yeah. Patton and I were playing together, and I went on the monkey bars. Only, I guess they were slippery from the rain, and I fell off. My arm broke, and Patton fixed it, only his arm broke then. I told Mr. Sanders what happened, and he called the hospital. I don’t think he believed me though when I told him that I broke my arm and Patton didn’t.”

Logan let Damian’s words sink in. They sighed and nodded their head. The two traveled through the halls, somehow avoiding all suspicions that two kids were walking alone in the hospital, and used the elevator to go to the third floor. 

The children’s floor was colored bright like a rainbow. Some kids played in a social area while others watched television in bean bags. The entire hallway smelled like Lysol. Logan and Damian kept their eyes on the room numbers they passed. Eventually, they both made it to Patton’s room and stepped inside.

Patton, who sat at the window with a very much not broken arm, turned to face the two of them with a large smile. “Oh, Logan! Damian, you came!”

Patton jumped off his chair and into Logan's arms. Logan caught him, and they stroked his hair.

“What were you thinking?” Logan asked. “You got hurt.”

“But, Logan, if I wasn’t there, Damian would’ve had a broken arm.”

“So? No offense, Damian.”

“None taken.”

“So?” Patton parroted. “I helped him. I couldn’t just do nothing.”

“Why not?”

“It wasn’t the right thing to do.”

Logan sighed, and they ran a hand through their hair. They looked over their shoulder, and they could hear whispering down the hall.

“Patton, was mom in here?”

“Yeah, she was in with another doctor. She was talking about how it was a miracle my arm wasn’t broken after all.”

Logan grew suspicious. They told Damian to watch Patton as they tiptoed into the hallway. Their mom, indeed, did talk to another person, but they didn’t look like a doctor. They were in a business suit, their brown hair tied into a ponytail behind their head. Logan snuck closer to eavesdrop on their conversation.

“It would be tuition-free, and you wouldn’t have to worry about Patton being put in danger anymore like this.”

“I don’t know.”

“Suppose next time, they find out about him and want to run tests. Then what? You could have scientists wiring him up like a lab rat. All I want to do is protect him.”

“I understand that, but… but I just lost my husband. I can’t lose Patton too.”

The man sighed and put a hand on her shoulder. His eyes sparkled as he said, “I’ve lost people too, Mrs. Shea, all because we were different. That’s why I’m trying to help people like me. That’s why I started IODNA, with people like Patton in mind. Think of me as Professor Xavier looking out for other mutants with gifts.”

“Will I ever get to see him again?”

The man sighed through his nose and thought for a moment. He responded with, “I’ll leave that up to Patton. Kids, they take it kind of hard when a parent abandons them, you know? I wouldn’t want to traumatize him any more than he already is.”

“Maybe this isn’t a good idea then,” their mother replied.

“Just… think about it. Get back to me with an answer later, okay? No pressure.”

Logan waited for the stranger to walk away. They hesitated before continuing on down the hall. Logan’s mom turned, and she jumped at the sight of Logan.

“Oh, sweetheart, how long have you been there?”

“You’re going to send Patton away?”

“No, that’s not what was going on. Logan, sometimes adults have adult conversations, and sometimes kids don’t understand-”

“You’re going to send Patton away.”

“No, sweetheart. No,” their mother leaned down and put her hands on Logan’s shoulders. “No, I’m not going to send him away. I promise you. I don’t want to lose anyone else in our family.”

Logan studied their mother for a long time. They nodded their head and looked down at their feet.

“We’re going to stay a family, I promise,” their mother added on.

Logan nodded their head again.

“Okay.”

* * *

“He keeps coming back,” Nikki said as she peeked out the curtained window. 

“I thought I told him no already,” Logan’s mother mumbled.

“You did. Twice, babe. You want me to tell him this time?”

“No, no violence, please. We’re just going to have to call the police.”

“And what are they going to do, huh? The police don’t do shit, Sarah. They’ll laugh at us. They don’t even take rape victims seriously. What makes you think they’re going to take the words of two dykes about a man stalking us? They’ll probably tell us to get fucked, literally.”

“Nikki! Logan is in the room.”

“So what? Let the little brat hear. This is all their fault anyway.”

“Don’t say that.”

“I’ll say whatever I damn well please, and you know I’m right. Tell me I’m wrong. I dare you.”

Logan watched their mother cave under pressure, as she always did. Nikki’s eyes focused on them, and Logan felt hot anger in their gut. All their frustration, all their anger, all their pent up rage all released at that very moment.

“So, why don’t you send me instead? Then you wouldn’t have to sit there and blame me for every little thing, because I’d be gone!”

“Logan!”

“Oh yeah, well maybe I should.”

“Nikki!”

“Fine. Do it. I don’t care.”

“Enough, both of you!” Logan’s mother shouted. She rubbed her temples. “I don’t know what we’re going to do, but we’re going to stop the yelling right now.”

Nikki towered over her, her eyes blazing, and she growled, “Or what, Sarah?”

Logan, sensing a fight, ran up the stairs before they could get caught in the crossfire. They hid at the top and waited for the inevitable argument. Logan’s mom opened her mouth, but the doorbell ringing interrupted her. 

Nikki beat her to the door and opened it wide. She narrowed her eyes and yelled, “Go the fuck away and leave us alone already!”

Before she could slam the door in his face, a strange force pushed the two of them back. Logan watched in horror as their mom crashed into the stairs, and Nikki sprawled out on the floor. The man let himself inside and closed the door. He wiped his feet on the welcome mat and put his coat up on the coat hanger.

“Good evening, ladies,” he greeted.

Logan covered their mouth so they didn’t scream. Their pounding heart shook their whole body.

“What the-”

“I do believe I have one last deal to offer you,” he said with a sneer. “See, I really do believe it’s in your son’s best interest if he comes with me. I’ve heard things. Bad things. Things that will get him taken away from you in a heartbeat, and let’s just say I don’t tolerate child abuse, Mrs. Shea.”

Logan’s mother sat upon the stairs, and she rubbed her head. She muttered, “I’m not abusing Patton.”

“Oh really? Then how do you explain living with another woman, you perverted fag.”

“Hey! Shut your yap,” Nikki snapped back. “You have no right-”

“I have every right, and I know the courts will especially pay attention to you, Mrs. Lane. Public intoxication, assaulting a police officer, murdering your own child, I could keep going.”

Nikki’s mouth hung open, and she furrowed her brows. “I didn’t murder my- how do you know about that?”

“I know a lot about you,” he replied. He turned his attention to Logan’s mom. “Now, I can see you dearly love Patton, so how about a trade, hmm? I’ll even pay you for him. How does 60 grand? You could get out of this neighborhood, go to California where people like you belong, and stop corrupting the innocent mind of a child.”

“You’re sick.”

“No, I’m doing you a favor. It’s only a matter of time before child services find out about this. How long before they take Patton away from you anyway? You have no rights, and you know it.”

Logan heard enough. They couldn’t let this man take their brother away. Not like this. After sucking up all their courage, Logan stood at the top of the stairs and called out, “Mom, who is that?”

All three heads turned, one with horror, one with annoyance, and one with mild amusement.

“Hello there. Are you Patton?” the man asked.

Logan nodded their head.

“Logan, sweetheart, no. Go back up to your room,” their mother urged.

“Logan? You have another child?”

“Mom, I told you, that’s not my name anymore. It’s Patton.”

“Oh how cute. You’ve perverted another child into your twisted agenda. See, this is what they mean when they say homos are abusive. You’ve made him want to change his gender.”

“I’m going to punch the shit out of you if you don’t shut up.”

“Oh, Mrs. Lane, I’d love to see you try.”

Logan walked down the stairs. They looked up at the man, who then knelt down to look into Logan’s eyes.

“So, you’re Patton Shea?”

“Yes.”

The man extended a hand and said, “I’m Dr. William.”

“Salutations, sir.”

“So well mannered, which begs the question, Logan, how stupid do you think I am?”

Logan fidgeted nervously. They danced from one foot to the other, before they said, “Sir? Can I whisper something to you? It’s, uh, it’s about my moms.”

The man rose a brow. Nonetheless, he humored the child and leaned in close. Logan put their hand to his head. Please let this work. Logan held their breath. Please let this work. They said, “It was Logan who healed Damian, not Patton. That’s what they told you.”

Logan watched the white part of the eye absorb Dr. William’s irises as the memory changed, and they held their breath. For a while, nothing happened. Then, Dr. William blinked several times, and he stood up.

“Ah, yes, Logan. It’s nice to finally meet you. I’ve heard so much about you.”

“Logan, honey, what are you doing?”

“I’m going with the man, mommy. I want to help people, and he can help me help people, right?”

“I sure can,” Dr. William answered.

“But-”

“Sarah,” Nikki whispered beside her. “Logan wants to do this. You heard them say that earlier, so let the kid be a hero. It might be the only way to save Patton.”

For a moment, the two women stared at each other. Logan’s mother swallowed hard, and she eyed her child over for any sign of doubt.

“Are you sure about this?” their mother asked one last time. 

Logan took one final look at their mom, to Nikki, then turned back to Dr. William and nodded their head. “I’m sure. I’m tired of being treated like dirt.”

“Then it’s settled,” Dr. Willaim said with a pat on Logan’s shoulder.

“On one condition,” Logan said. Dr. William glanced down at Logan with an inquisitive brow. Logan swallowed, and they said, “I want to bring a stuffed animal.”

“I guess you could do that,” Dr. William said. “Be back down here in two minutes, or I’ll come back up after you myself.”

Logan nodded their head. They hurried up the stairs and entered their room, closing the door as quietly as they could behind them. When they turned around, Patton was shaking under the bed.

“Logan, who’s down there? Is he back?” Patton asked, his voice wet with tears. “I don’t wanna leave. Why won’t he leave us alone?”

Logan climbed under the bed next to Patton. They pressed up against Patton's side, their bodies fitting together like a puzzle piece. 

“I don’t know,” Logan answered at last. They took a deep breath, “but I don’t think they’re going to leave you alone until you go.”

Patton whimpered. He pressed his face into Logan’s shoulder, and Logan sighed through their nose. If Patton knew what was going on down there, if he knew that his mom was being hurt, he’d go without question. Then Logan would lose Patton forever. Logan couldn’t let that happen. They had to pretend to be Patton.

After all, it was their fault Patton was discovered.

“Patton, I need to borrow Froggie.”

“What? Why?”

“I’m going to pretend to be you so they leave you alone.”

“No, Logan, you can’t do that. You can’t!”

Logan gave a sad smile. “Don’t worry, Patton. I erased his memory so he forgot you. But I told them I came up here to get a stuffed animal, so I need to take Froggie with me, okay?”

“No, it’s not okay. Stay here.” Patton and Logan stared at each other for a moment. Logan slid forward to exit from under the bed, but Patton latched onto their leg. "You are not going. You’re in time out."

"What other choice do we have? I’m not going to let you get hurt because of me."

“But what if I don’t want you hurt either?”

“Sometimes we have to be brave, Patton.”

“But I can't… I can't lose you, Logan.”

“I know, but I don’t want to lose you either.” Logan forced their way out from under the bed. Patton clung onto Logan’s leg as they slid forward, making it impossible for Logan to stand. Logan turned around and tried to pull Patton’s fingers off them, but it wouldn’t work. “Patton, please let go.”

“No!”

“Patton-”

“NO!”

“Patton, shh, they’ll hear you.”

“So let them hear me! I don’t want you to go! I don’t want you to leave me! I’m not going to let you go-”

Logan pounced on Patton and pinned him to the floor. Patton opened his mouth to scream, but Logan covered it. They chewed on their lip.

“I know you won’t. You’re too stubborn.”

Patton’s teary eyes pleaded for them to let him go. He twisted his head back and forth to try and shake Logan's hand from his mouth. Logan moved their other hand to Patton’s forehead to keep him still. Patton clawed at Logan’s arm keeping his mouth closed.

“I’m sorry, Patton. I don’t know what else to do. Don’t make me make you forget me.”

Patton said something behind Logan’s hand, but they couldn’t make it out.

“Maybe if I wasn’t your twin, maybe if I wasn’t such a brat, a stupid screw up brat, everything would be okay. Maybe Damian should be your twin, not me. He’s the one who helped you, not me. I got you hurt! I got… Patton?”

Logan looked down, and to their horror, Patton’s eyes were totally white. Logan’s heart pounded in their chest. Their mouth moved, but they didn’t say much else. No. No! They didn’t mean to! They didn’t- they didn’t erase Patton’s memory, did they? They didn’t want to. They-

“Patton!” Logan shook Patton’s shoulders. “Patton, are you okay? Patton!”

Patton’s eyes returned to normal, and he blinked several times. Logan pulled Patton close to their chest, and they cried, “Patton! I thought I hurt you.”

Patton hesitated before he wrapped Logan into a hug. He patted Logan’s back and waited until Logan pushed away. Logan, however, noticed something… off about Patton’s smile. It looked forced, polite, strange.

“Patton, are you okay?”

“I think I’m okay.”

Logan sighed. “Good. Now, please stay here and don’t come after me.”

“Okay.”

Logan blinked several times. “Okay?”

“Yeah, okay.”

“But… aren’t… you going to stop me?”

“Why would I do that?”

“Because I… I’m going to give… Patton, what’s wrong with you?”

“Is there something wrong with me?”

“Yes!” Logan threw their hands up in the air. “You were just screaming for me not to go, and now you’re suddenly okay with it.”

Patton shrugged. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You are joking with me right now, aren’t you? This is all a joke. A really bad joke.”

“Can’t say I am, sorry. But I do like jokes! Why do flamingos stand on one leg?”

“Patton-”

“Because it would fall if it lifted up both legs!” He laughed, but it died down to a nervous giggle the longer Logan stared at him with an empty expression. “Guess you didn’t find that too funny, huh?”

“How can you be laughing at a time like this?” Logan grabbed their hair. “They’re going to take me away.”

“Haha?”

“No song references!”

Logan could start to feel a strange emotion coming from Patton, distress. Uncomfort. Something that Logan had never felt around Patton before. Everyone else caused it, but never Logan themselves.

“Patton? What’s wrong?”

“Huh? Oh, uh, well… I just don’t know why you’re leaving.”

Logan’s stomach dropped.

“Oh no,” they whispered. “I did do it, didn’t I?”

“You did what?”

Logan looked up at Patton. The gears in their head began to turn, and they responded, “N-nothing.”

Logan flexed their fingers. They erased Patton’s memory just like Dr. William. But they didn’t mean to! They didn’t mean to. They hugged their arms and tried not to cry. Why couldn’t they control this? Patton must’ve sensed Logan’s sorrow because he ran over and grabbed a tissue. He held it out, and Logan gratefully took it.

“Thanks.”

“No problem. Um, what's your name?"

Logan thought for a moment before they responded, "Paddington. My name is Paddington."

"Like the bear!" 

"Yes, like the bear." Logan took off their glasses, blew their nose, and wiped it on their shirt sleeve. They heard someone walking up the stairs, and Logan hurried to their feet. They said, “I’m sorry, Patton, but I have to go.”

“Oh, okay then. Thanks for coming.”

“Can… can I borrow Froggie? Just for tonight.”

“If it’ll make you less sad, sure.”

“It’ll make me very less sad.”

Patton grabbed the stuffed frog off the bed and hopped over to Logan. He presented it, a too innocent, too pure smile on his face. Logan wiped tears from their eyes. Instead of taking the frog, they pulled Patton into a tight hug.

“I love you, Patton,” they whispered.

“Aww, thanks. I love you too, Paddington.”

Logan wished they could stay like this forever, but they knew they were just delaying the inevitable. They took Froggie from Patton’s hands, said one last goodbye, and pulled the door shut. Logan felt like collapsing. Their knees shook, and their heart pounded, but they had to be brave. They had to be brave. For Patton.

Slowly, step by step, Logan made their way back down to the living room. Their mom had moved to the couch, her head buried in Nikki’s shoulder. For a moment, Logan caught Nikki’s eyes and sent a nonverbal message. Take care of her. Take care of Patton. It must’ve relayed because Nikki sent a small nod of approval.

Funny, Logan had to sacrifice themself to get one ounce of human dignity from that woman.

Dr. William looked up at them and smiled a sickening grin. 

“Well then, Logan, we better get going, huh?” Dr. William purred. Logan’s mother choked back a sob. A sympathetic smile crossed Dr. William’s face, “Oh, don’t worry, Mrs. Shea. Your check should be in your mailbox tomorrow morning. Then, you can move as far away from here as you like and forget this ever happened.”

The man put a hand on Logan’s shoulder as the two of them walked out. Logan was put into a fancy black car with windows that were completely black on the outside. They read somewhere that the cars were called limousines. Logan buckled up, and they stared out the window the entire way. 

“Oh, cheer up, little guy. Where you’re going, you’re going to help so many people. There’s no need to be sad.”

“I’m not sad.”

“Good. If I were you, I would want to get as far away from those two as I could anyway. You did the right thing.”

Logan sighed. The car stopped next to the park. The wind blew the swings back and forth, and the merry-go-round lazily spun. The library on the other side was dark, its lights long extinguished by the last librarian in the building. Logan took one last look before the car sped back down the road.

“You’re going to love it there, Logan. You won’t regret this.”

Logan hugged Froggie close to their chest. They sure hoped so.

* * *

_“I knew it.”_

_“Knew what?”_

_“I knew they were wrong. You weren't a dream. Mom and Nikki kept talking about how I wanted to be you somehow, that you did… this to me.”_

_“Did what to you, Patton?”_

_“Made me trans.”_

_“Patton, that is ridiculous.”_

_“I know but… for a while, I really believed it.”_

_“I’m so sorry, Patton. None of this would’ve happened if-”_

_“No, don’t blame yourself for this. It’s all Dr. William’s fault.”_

_“Patton-”_

_“I’m not taking any objections either.”_

_“... If you’re sure.”_

_“Hey, Logan?” _

_“Yes?”_

_“Do you still have Froggie?”_

_“I’m sorry, Patton, but Froggie was left behind in my old room years ago. I haven’t seen him since I was fourteen. They probably threw it out by now.”_

_“Oh.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My keyboard's kinda broken right now, so I don't know when the next chapter will come out. I hope this extra long chapter made up for it <3

**Author's Note:**

> Scream at me on tumblr @ altruistic-skittles


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